


Fight or Flight

by lemon_patronous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animagus, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Breaking Up & Making Up, Death Eaters, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Quidditch, Relationship Issues, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), strap in folks this is a long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_patronous/pseuds/lemon_patronous
Summary: Alene Ramona Avery: a young witch burdened by the legacy of her death eater parents.George Fabian Weasley: a young wizard searching for his own identity.“Dearest Georgie…”In George, Ramona saw her freedom. In Ramona, George saw his individuality. From their first meeting, they were inseparable. Despite the looming threat of war, their friendship strengthened and blossomed into so much more.“Dear Mo…”Two years after the Battle of Hogwarts; A handful of funerals, countless fights, one lengthy goodbye letter, an abandoned engagement ring, two broken hearts, and an ocean between them.Will Ramona and George be able to repair their broken relationship? Or will their love become yet another casualty of war?Tiktok: fightorflightficSpotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2dLfWtjIqD8ZKDCy1CgEMI?si=oqziODbzRJ6pV5IyUGFI2A(Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. I only own my original characters and any plot that doesn't follow the books/movies)
Relationships: George Weasley/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 12





	1. young and foolish

#### Year One (snippets)

* * *

The chaos of Platform Nine in Three-Quarters is unmatched. 

The voices of anxious parents as they yelled their last-minute goodbyes. The excited reunions of friends after months of summer holiday. The squawks and shrieks of pets as their cages are loaded onto the carriages. And the loudest of all: the Hogwarts Express, the shrill whistle signaling to the passengers that its departure is imminent. 

And in the middle stood the Tonks family, huddled around their youngest as they tried to coax her onto the train. 

“Ramona, sweetheart, please. It’s time for you to go,” Andromeda begged, her hands gently caressing the shoulders of the nervous first year. 

But Ramona stood her ground, her eyes fixated on the dark entrance to the carriage. The longer she stood there, the more it resembled that of a large mouth, threatening to swallow her whole. She squeezed her tiny gray kitten closer to her chest, willing that terrible sinking feeling to vanish. But it doesn’t. Instead, it remains firmly in her stomach, where it had lived for the past few months. She knows she has no choice but to get on the train, but her body refuses to budge from its spot on the platform.

Ted kneeled to her level, scratching the sleeping kitten on its tiny head, “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were scared.” 

“I am  _ not _ scared,” Ramona huffed in reply, her foot stomping on the ground, “I’m just…cautious.”

Ted raised an eyebrow. He knew what he was doing, knew that Ramona never could back down from a challenge. And it was working. Ramona was already considering running onto the train just to prove how  _ not  _ scared she really was. 

But truthfully, she was terrified. She always has been. From the moment her sister had left to start her years at Hogwarts, Ramona had been dreading her own eventual departure because she could not see a version of the future where her time at Hogwarts wouldn’t be full of name-calling and loneliness. 

After all, that’s what her childhood had been full of. Why would Hogwarts be any different? 

Despite never setting foot on the castle grounds, Ramona already had a reputation. Or rather, her family already had a reputation. Not the Tonkses, of course, but her biological family, the Averys. 

“You’re such a scaredy-cat, Mona,” Her sister laughed. It was Nymphadora’s sixth year at Hogwarts, and unlike her younger sibling, she was thrilled to be returning. Ramona had always been jealous of Tonks’s cheerful demeanor. 

“Am not,” Ramona snapped back. 

“Are too,” 

“AM NOT!”

“ARE TO”

“GIRLS!” Andromeda loudly interrupted. She gave the elder daughter a disapproving glare before moving her attention back to Ramona, “Everything’s going to be okay,” 

“...promise?” Ramona asked quietly, holding out her pinky. 

A warm smile spread across Andromeda’s face as she hooked her pinky around Ramona’s outstretched one, “I promise,”

Andromeda and Ted enveloped her in a tight hug, but were cut short by another deafening whistle. The parents quickly ushered both girls towards the carriage and loaded their heavy trunks aboard, giving them both one more goodbye hug each. 

As the train started pulling away, Ramona was dragged farther into the carriage by her sister. 

“C’mon, Mona. Let’s go find you a friend to sit with,” 

Ramona felt her stomach drop again as she tucked her kitten into her coat pocket, “Why can’t I sit with you and your friends?”

“You have to get to know people in your year Ramona. Otherwise, when I leave in two years, you’ll have no one to talk to.” Tonks said as she leaned against the glass of the carriages, hands cupped around her eyes as she tried to glimpse at the passengers inside. After repeating this behavior outside multiple carriages, she finally found one that satisfied her. 

Tonks scratched her head, messing up her spiky pink hair in the process, “So, do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

Ramona violently shook her head from side to side. Tonks chuckled under her breath before sliding open the door with an overdramatic flourish. 

“Wotcher!” She called out to the carriage occupants, “Mind if my sister joins you?”

The three first-year occupants whipped their heads around to face the intruders, and Ramona was sure she’d never seen more unfriendly people in her life. The students glared at the sisters before turning back and whispering amongst themselves. It took a full minute of deliberation before the raven-haired boy, who appeared to be the leader stood up, and looked Ramona up and down with a judgmental stare. 

“That depends,” he said, his voice thick with distaste, “You’re not some filthy mudblood, are you?”

Tonk’s jaw dropped, and Ramona's face snapped into a grimace. 

“Never mind, I’ll pass,” She said, newfound bravery coursing through her, “I’ll find someone better to sit with than this miserable bunch,” 

The sisters moved out, slamming the carriage door behind them before the trio could respond. Ramona was desperate for a friend, but even her standards were higher than some snotty blood purists. Unless she suddenly wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, in which case, blood purists would make the perfect acquaintances.

They traveled down the corridor in silence until they found a carriage with only a single occupant. It was a young girl, clearly around Ramona’s age. She stared out the window, and all Ramona could see was her braided hair, wrapped neatly up into a large bun. The only other occupant was a frog, which sat next to the girl atop a book bag. 

Tonks pushed her inside and mouthed “good luck” before disappearing further into the train to find her friends. Ramona made a mental note to hex her later. 

The girl whipped her head around, suddenly aware that she was no longer alone. 

She offered out her hand and simply stated, “First Year. Melissa, but you can just call me Lissa,”

Ramona, a bit took aback by this girl’s forwardness, accepted the handshake, nervously choking out, “Ramona. M-my name’s Ramona,”

“Good name. Excellent name,” Melissa replied, nodding as if agreeing with herself. 

Slightly confused, Ramona sat down across from the girl, pulling the kitten out of her pocket and setting her in her lap. She stretched, her tiny claws getting caught on the edges of Ramona’s sweater. Realizing she was stuck, the kitten began to flail around in her lap.

“Cute cat,” Melissa commented, leaning in to get a better look and the kitten as Ramona struggled to get her free, “What’s her name?”

Ramona untangled her last claw, holding the kitten up and away before she had a chance to attack the sweater again, “Olive.”

“Well, Olive, meet Gregory,” Melissa gestured to the frog beside her. Ramona smiled at the amphibian before setting Olive on the bench next to her. Clearly, her lap was not a safe place for the kitten. In the few weeks since Andromeda surprised her with Olive, Ramona had learned one essential thing: Olive might just be the clumsiest cat in all of England. Nonetheless, Ramona loved the little gray kitten and was thankful that she would at least have a furry friend at Hogwarts if everything else went wrong. 

The girls sat in silence for a while, just watching the scenery speed past the window. Ramona nervously fiddled with her hair, undoing and redoing her braids again and again. With only the occasional ribbit from Gregory to fill the silence, Ramona quickly became uncomfortable. 

“So…” she began hesitantly, “what house do you want to be in?”

Melissa thought deeply for a moment, her pointer finger tapping her nose as she concentrated, “Ravenclaw. Definitely Ravenclaw. What about you?”

Ramona scoffed, “Just not Slytherin. I’ll take anything except Slytherin.”

Melissa’s head cocked to the side, and Ramona took that as her cue to keep talking. 

“I just..,” Ramona shivered, the thought too awful for her to bear, “I just can’t be a Slytherin. Not if I want to enjoy at least a bit of my time at Hogwarts. I guess Dromeda was a Slytherin, and she turned out alright. But that was a long time ago, and my sister Dora says that the current Slytherins are a bunch of pompous arseholes,” 

Ramona decided not to include that, for generations upon generations, Averys have always been Slytherin, and that she was not interested in keeping up the tradition. Melissa didn’t need to know that, not yet anyway. She wanted to enjoy having a friend for a while longer before revealing her family history and likely scaring off Melissa for good. 

“And besides, Slytherin’s don’t let girls on the Quidditch team. And I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t play Quidditch,” Ramona finished.

Melissa’s face lit up with joy, “You play Quidditch? Brilliant,”

She nodded eagerly. Maybe making friends wasn’t so hard after all, “Do you play as well?”

Ramona was startled by Melissa’s response of genuine laughter, “Merlin, no. Me and brooms don’t get along very well. But I  _ love _ the sport. Fascinated by the strategies and mechanics. Did you know, that at the 1473 Quidditch World Cup-“

Their talk of strategies was cut short by the door bursting open, followed by two lanky redheads tumbling into their carriage. Startled, the girls jumped, pressing themselves up against the wall. The boys, unfazed by the girls’ reaction, wasted no time. They shut the door and plopped into the seats, one beside each girl. It was only then Ramona realized that the boys looked  _ precisely _ the same. Down to the last freckle. 

The one by Melissa spoke first, “If anyone asks, we were here the whole time. Got it?”

The girls nodded in response. Ramona opened her mouth to ask why, pray tell, these boys had chosen to barge into  _ their  _ carriage of all places, when yet another redhead appeared in the doorway. At least by a few years, this one was older, and judging by the furrow in his brow and the redness in his face, he was not amused. And as he stood there, a subtle, yet putrid aroma wafted into the carriage. Ramona fought the urge to cough.

“Really, a dungbomb?” The elder redhead accused.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about, Percy,” The other twin said. 

The first twin spoke again, “Yeah, Perce. We’ve been here the whole time. Right girls?” 

Ramona nodded, “Of course. They’ve been here with us the entire train ride.”

She flashed Percy a smile, as if to say, “well, of course, you can trust me.” In response, Percy glared at Ramona, then back again at the twins, before shutting the door and disappearing from her view. 

The twins waited a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter, holding their stomachs as tears formed in their eyes. The girls didn’t join in, and instead, they just stared at their guests, eager for an explanation. 

It was Melissa who spoke first, “Who was that?”

“Our brother Percy,” the twin near Ramona said as he collected himself. 

“You threw a dungbomb at your brother?” Ramona asked, a slight smile forming on her face. It reminded her of something Tonks would have done. 

“Well, when your brother’s as much of a git as Percy, a dungbomb’s the least he deserves,” the other twin added, “Merlin, he’s so uptight you’d think he’d sat on his wand,”

“Well, I suppose introductions are in order. I’m Melissa. And your names are?” She asked, gesturing to the twin beside her.

“I’m Fred,” he replied, a thumb pointed toward his chest, “And that’s George,”

“And you are?” George asked, moving his body to face Ramona. 

“Ramona,” She answered, swallowing hard. 

“Ra. Mo. Na,” George said, testing out the name in his mouth. He smiled brightly, before picking up the kitten that was scratching at his leg, “This your’s, Ramona?”

She nodded, watching George as he looked at Olive. He held her with both hands out at arms length, studying the kitten as if she was a potentially dangerous object. He stared deeply into her namesake green eyes, and the feline stared back, puzzled by her current predicament. George turned, holding Olive right next to Ramona’s face, and studied them both closely. Her breath hitched, suddenly aware that George’s hand was only centimeters away from her face. He looked between the two faces and nodded to himself. 

“Your eyes match,” he confirmed, before setting Olive down in Ramona’s lap. She felt a blush flood her cheeks. Suddenly nervous again, she quickly looked down in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. Luckily, he didn’t, already enthralled in whatever Melissa and Fred were arguing about. 

And for the rest of the train ride, that’s how it was: the four of them. Sharing stories, debating, laughing. Ramona couldn’t help but let a smile spread across her face. 

Maybe Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

* * *

Ramona was convinced the universe was out to get her.

Why else wouldn’t they be calling students to the sorting hat in alphabetical order? Ramona had been counting on it, the only time she was happy with her last name. She would be one of the first sorted, and could get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. But now, Ramona watched as the cluster of first-years became smaller and smaller, and with each name called, her nerves doubled. 

Melissa had already been sorted: Ravenclaw, just as she’d wanted. The twins had joined the other group of redheads at the Gryffindor table (how many Weasleys were there, anyway?). And the stuck-up boy from the first carriage (whose name she now knew was Malcolm Travers) was thrilled when the hat placed him in Slytherin. But now, Ramona was alone, surrounded by strangers, with a feeling of impending doom hanging over her head. 

“Alene Avery” 

Here it was: The moment she had been dreading for years. She could already hear students’ frenzied whispers, and Ramona did not have to listen to know she was the subject of their gossip. 

Despite her fear, Ramona willed her wobbly legs forward, approaching the stool. 

“I go by Ramona, actually,” she corrected, her voice sounding much squeakier than she would have liked. 

Professor McGonagall nodded gently, “Very well, Ramona. Please take a seat,”

From the end of the Gryffindor table, George watched Ramona grimace as the sorting hat was placed upon her head. 

“I could’ve sworn she said her name was Ramona,” Fred commented.

From beside him, Percy scoffed, “She probably lied. Didn’t want you to know who she really was,”

“And why would she do that?” questioned George, already annoyed at his older brother’s presence. After their conversation on the train, George had taken a liking to Ramona. He found her to be fascinating, and he especially enjoyed the sound of her laugh. George found himself offended on Ramona’s behalf by the reactions of the other students. What could she have possibly done to warrant this kind of judgment?

“Because she’s an  _ Avery _ ,” spat Percy, “And she of all people knows that her family won’t be forgiven anytime soon,”

“Don’t be daft, Percy,” scolded the eldest brother, Charlie, “She’s eleven, not a death eater,”

“She may not have betrayed the Ministry or pledged allegiance to you-know-who, but she’s  _ still _ one of them,” Percy finished. 

Charlie sighed, “All I know, is that she’s Tonks’s little sister. And I trust Tonks, so I’m sure she’s fine,”

It was George who finally pointed out the obvious, “Why is it taking so long? Shouldn’t the hat have decided by now?”

His observation was correct: the sorting hat was taking an exceptionally long time with Ramona. By this point, the chatter had ceased, and the Great Hall fell into a deadly silence. Ramona pulled anxiously on one of her braids, much preferring the dull ache of taut hair to the overwhelming anticipation that currently occupied her. She had no idea what was happening. There had been so many sortings before her own, and at each one, the hat babbled for a few seconds, before loudly announcing its decision to the Hall. But from the moment the ancient hat had touched her head, it hadn’t spoken a word. 

Even McGonagall appeared concerned, her lips pursed into a tight pout. 

_ Great Merlin’s beard _ , Ramona thought to herself,  _ I’ve broken the sorting hat. _

“You’ve not broken me, child. I am merely thinking’”

Ramona nearly fell off the stool she was so startled. 

The Sorting hat chuckled, “Alene Ramona Avery, it seems I am at a crossroads.” 

“What do you mean?” Ramona replied nervously. She caught a glimpse of Tonks’s bright hair toward the front of the Hufflepuff table. Her sister flashed a bright smile and two encouraging thumbs up. Ramona appreciated the gesture, but it did nothing to ease her worries.

“Upon first glance, you have all the makings of a fine Slytherin. Especially in your fierce and unmovable ambition to prove your worth. So very much like your mother before you,” 

Ramona cringed,  _ please say it louder. I don’t think the house-elf in the back heard you. _

The sorting hat ignored her remark and continued, “Yet at the same time, your mind is open and thirsty for knowledge, as any good Ravenclaw’s should. You have a deep desire to understand the world around you. A Conundrum indeed. So tell me, Miss Avery: what is it you want most out of your time at Hogwarts?”

This puzzled Ramona, as she had never thought about what she actually wanted. She knew what she  _ didn’t _ want: she didn’t want to be tormented or mocked, and she certainly didn’t want to turn out like her mother. But when she thought about what she wanted, her mind drifted back to early that same day with George, Fred, and Mellissa. It felt so wonderful just to talk and laugh. To be included for once in her life. 

“I want friends,” Ramona finally stated, “I just want to feel like I belong,”

“Well then, Miss Avery, I believe you will find this House’s accepting nature to be a particular comfort. RAVENCLAW!”

The Great Hall erupted into cheers, thankful that a decision had been made. The Ravenclaw table cheered the loudest, eager to welcome their newest member. Their volume was closely followed by Tonks, who had placed her fingers in her mouth and was now making a high pitched whistle.

As she sat amongst the blue sea that was the Ravenclaw table, It was as if Ramona could breathe for the first time in years—no longer doomed to a life in Slytherin. As far as she was concerned, her future was wide open ahead of her.

* * *

“Now students, on the count of three,” commanded Madam Hooch, “Ready? One, two, three,” 

“UP!” the students yelled in unison, but only Ramona’s broom flew up to her hand. She couldn’t help but gloat. 

“Excellent, Miss Avery,” remarked Madam Hooch, “The rest of you; keep trying!”

It was the afternoon Ramona had been looking forward to since classes started: their first flying class. She’d been itching to get on a broom since she’d arrived a few weeks earlier. At home, Tonks and Ramona would spend hours each afternoon in a nearby forest clearing, soaring around on brooms to their heart’s delight. Sometimes they would get a bigger group of kids together, and play quidditch matches on the weekends. Romana felt most like herself when she was flying, and she missed that feeling greatly. She’d hoped their first lesson would involve some actual flying, but seeing how most of the class couldn’t even get their brooms off the ground, she didn’t have very high hopes. 

“This is just absurd!” complained Lissa, who was standing next to Ramona. Lissa’s broom had yet to make it off the ground. Instead, it rolled around in the grass. Lissa was right: she and brooms really did not get along. 

Since the sorting ceremony, the girls had been inseparable, eating every meal together and sitting next to each other in every class. It had not taken long for them to become close friends. Having a friend like Lisaa made Ramona realize how painful her previous loneliness had been. And if she could help it, she would never want to return to that again. 

Across from them stood the Weasley twins, who clearly found the lesson boring and instead decided that a sword fight with their brooms was much more entertaining. Fred and George had also become a constant in Ramona’s life, although she saw less of them since they were in a different house. She loved how fun they were, joking and pranking at every opportunity. Every day, they reminded Ramona of how good it felt to laugh. 

The Sorting Hat was right: The Ravenclaws were an incredibly accepting bunch. Not a single one had given her any grief about her family name, and overall they just seemed warm and welcoming. The other houses, however, were a completely different story. The Hufflepuffs just seemed to ignore her, which Ramona didn’t mind. Other than the Weasleys, the Gryffindors seemed very suspicious of her. They would actively avoid her in the hallways, and a few times, she caught some of the Gryffindors staring at her in class. They watched her as if she was going to turn into a death eater in front of their very eyes. 

Slytherin’s reaction was by far the most confusing. Half the house seemed to love her. They would say hi to her in the hallways, eager to befriend the daughter of such a prolific death eater. The other half  _ loathed _ her. Despite her last name, they only saw her as the daughter of a blood traitor and a muggleborn (although they preferred to use a much more vulgar term). The rude boy from the train, Malcolm Travers, was in this latter group. Every time he saw Ramona, he made sure to throw some insult her way. His recent favorite had been “blood traitor,” although she considered that to be a compliment more than anything else. 

“Do you boys take anything seriously?” asked Lissa, and she bent down to pick up her broom, clearly over trying to do it the magical way. 

“Why yes, of course, dear Lissa,” answered Fred, his voice full of dramatics. 

“We take our sword fighting very seriously,” finished George.

Both twins offered a mischievous grin, and Ramona chuckled in response. 

Down the line, a Hufflepuff screamed, clutching her nose, a steady stream of blood gushing down her face. She must have been a bit over-eager, and accidentally hit herself with her broom. Yep, there was no way they’d get to flying this lesson. 

Madam Hooch comforted the injured girl before addressing the rest of the class, “I must escort this student to the hospital wing. I want no shenanigans while I’m gone. Understood?”

The class nodded in response, and Madam Hooch and the girl walked back into the castle. Fred and George took this as an opportunity to cause a bit of mischief. 

“Hey, Mona!” George called, “Race us?”

She cocked an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Edge of the field and back,” Fred clarified, “Unless...you’re too scared you won’t win,”

There it was: a challenge. Ramona couldn’t back down now.

“You’re on,” accepted Ramona.

“But wait! You can’t do that. Madam Hooch told us not to do anything while she was gone!” a Gryffindor whined. 

“She said, ‘no shenanigans.’ She never said we couldn’t fly,” responded Ramona as she mounted her broom. The twins followed suit. 

“Lissa, count us down?”

“Gladly,” Lissa responded, “Three...two...one...GO!”

Ramona was off the ground before the twins even had time to react. She felt more alive than she had in weeks, the wind whipping through her hair and her cloaks. She pushed her broom faster and faster. She longed for the broom she had to leave at home, as it was much faster than the basic brooms the first years were given. 

The twins caught up with Ramona as he was starting her way back towards the class. They flew next to her, one twin on each side. To their credit, they were both very talented flyers, and knew how to push their brooms to the limit. But Ramona still had more tricks up her sleeve. 

“I’ll admit it, you’re pretty good, Avery,” yelled George over the wind. 

Fred smirked, “But you haven’t won yet!”

Fred moved to bump her, but Ramona dove down at the last second, avoiding Fred’s sabotage attempt. Instead, Fred bumped into George, sending both twins off spinning. Ramona laughed as she flew away, landing by Lissa long before either of the twins. The class cheered and celebrated her victory. 

“I didn’t know you could fly?” George exclaimed, hopping off his broom. 

“You never asked!” Ramona teased. 

And that was the day the Weasley twins learned never to underestimate Ramona Avery.

* * *

Ramona raced towards the greenhouses, furiously wiping her dirty hands on her cloaks. She smelled like dungbombs, and she desperately wanted to take a shower, but she had promised to meet the twins as soon as they had completed their mission in Filch's office. 

A few days prior, the twins had approached Ramona and requested she help them break into Filch’s office. They’d been there for detention when they noticed a drawer labeled “Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.” Being the troublemakers they were, Fred and George couldn’t leave it alone. They planned to sneak back into his office to investigate further, but they needed something to distract Flich. That’s where Ramona came in. 

“Why me?” Ramona had asked when the twins stopped her after potions one day. 

“Because,” George explained, “You’re smart,”

“Gee, thanks, George,” Answered Ramona, “But you don’t exactly need to be smart to throw a dungbomb,” 

“No, you don’t,” said Fred, “But you need to be smart not to get caught,” 

Ramona crossed her arms and huffed, “Fine, I’ll help. But only if I get in on whatever you find. Deal?” 

The twins agreed. And that’s why Ramon had spent the last half an hour running through the halls of the castle, throwing more dungbombs than she could count. She would never admit it, but she’d had fun causing chaos. She could see why Fred and George loved it so much. 

She sprinted towards the twins who were leaning against one of the greenhouses. 

“So? Find anything good?” She asked them eagerly. 

The twins turned to each other, smirks on their faces, before turning back to Ramona. 

“We sure did,” declared Fred, as he pulled his treasure out from behind his back. It was a blank piece of parchment, yellowed with age. 

Ramona stared down at the object, “It’s a piece of parchment,” 

“Wow. The sorting hat really knew what it was doing when it placed you in Ravenclaw,” George teased. 

“Oh shut up,” She responded, elbowing George, “But seriously? I spent half an hour getting chased by Filch so you two could swipe a piece of musty parchment?”

“Hey!” exclaimed Fred, “It’s not just any piece of musty parchment. It’s a  _ confiscated and highly dangerous _ piece of musty parchment,”

Ramona groaned and rubbed the space between her eyebrows, “You two are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

“Bloody hell!” George interjected, still staring at the parchment, “Did either of you see that?”

“See what?” questioned Fred. 

“The parchment it..it did something!” George explained, “Ramona, say that again!”

Ramona complied, staring down at the mysterious paper, “You two are going to be the death of me, I swear,”

The trio watched in amazement as the parchment flickered to life. Dark details and swirls appeared on the surface. There were words too, but they were too blurry to read. But as quickly as the designs appeared, they were gone, and the trio was once again left staring at the blank piece of parchment. 

“I TOLD YOU, MONA!” Fred yelled, jumping up and down, “I told you it did something!”


	2. nothing but flat ground

**Year Two (snippets)**

* * *

“Seriously? We’ve got nothing?” 

“Yup,” George replied to Ramona, “Nothing,”

“You mean to tell me...we wasted the whole summer researching, and we still can’t figure out this stupid parchment?” groaned Ramona. 

“ _ You _ spent the summer researching,” corrected Fred, “We spent the summer yelling different things at it to see if anything would happen,”

“And? Did anything happen?” she asked. 

Fred frowned, “No,”

The Hogwarts Express was well on its way towards the castle, and the group of friends was reuniting for the first time in months. Lissa and Lee Jordan sat on the carriage floor, listening in on the conversation but mostly reveling in a lively game of exploding snaps (Lissa was winning, as per usual). Fred, George, and Ramona discussed their lack of progress with the mysterious parchment they nabbed from Filch’s office the year prior. It had been their goal over the summer to discover the parchment's secrets. They hoped by the time their second year rolled around, they would be able to take advantage of whatever that parchment had to offer. So, Ramona had spent her hot summer afternoons pouring over books on enchanted paper and spell detection, but unfortunately, she did not learn anything the trio didn’t already know. 

Ramona had always loved the summer. It was the time when her sister would come home from Hogwarts, and their days were filled with nothing but play and laughter. They would spend all day outside, playing quidditch and basking in the summer sun. And at night, the Tonks household was always lively and full of songs. Their father, Ted, loved music, and felt it was his duty to teach the girls everything there was to know about muggle music. The family would spend their evenings singing and dancing to whatever new record Ted brought home that day. 

This summer had been particularly bittersweet; it was the last summer before Nymphadora finished her education. Ramona knew that as soon as her sister’s seventh year was over and done, she wouldn’t stay at home for much longer. She had ambitions to become an auror, ambitions that Ramona shared. If Tonks received the N.E.W.T. scores she hoped for, it wouldn’t be long before she was off to training, leaving Ramona behind in the proverbial dust. So Ramona savored every summer moment with her beloved sister, just as she planned to savor their last shared year at Hogwarts. 

“Here’s what I don’t quite understand,” started Lissa, and she dealt more cards to Lee, “You found this parchment in a drawer marked ‘dangerous,’ and yet you’re still so eager to get it to work?”

“And your point is?” Fred queried. 

Lissa sighed, “Aren’t you a bit worried that it might be, you know, dangerous?”

“C’mon Lis,” chuckled Ramona, “Aren’t you at least a little curious?” 

“Oh, trust me, I’m bloody curious. But I’m also very interested in  _ not _ getting sent to the Hospital Wing over a piece of parchment,” explained Lissa. 

Just then, the cards in Lee’s hands exploded, covering his face in a small cloud of smoke. Lissa’s hands went straight up into the air as she cheered for her victory. 

“That’s three wins for me and...none for you. Sorry, Lee! Better luck next time!” laughed Lissa. 

“Ugh, Ravenclaws,” Lee muttered under his breath, getting off the floor to join Fred on the carriage seats. 

Lissa started cleaning up the rest of the cards, still glowing from her wins, “I’m so excited for this year. Merlin, there’s just so much to look forward to! Oh! Like the Frog Choir auditions! Fingers crossed Gregory and I can score a spot this year,”

“Sorry, Lissa, but in terms of excitement, I’m pretty sure Quidditch tryouts beat frog choir,” chuckled George. 

Fred flashed his signature grin, “George and I’ll be damned if we don’t score those open beater spots,” 

“You’re both trying out for the Gryffindor team? Wicked!” exclaimed Ramona, “I’m trying out for Ravenclaw!” 

“What positions are you hoping for, Mona?” Inquired Lee. Lee was a relatively new friend for Ramona, but the two had developed a rapport rather quickly. Lee also shared the group’s passion for quidditch, so there was no shortage of topics for the new acquaintances to discuss. 

Ramona smirked, “Seeker,”

The Gryffindors’ jaws dropped in unison. 

“You’re not serious,” Stammered Fred. 

Ramona raised a quizzical brow, “I’m dead serious. Why?”

George turned to her, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mona: you’re brilliant on a broom. But second-years never get seeker.  _ It’s just...unheard of _ !”

“Well then,” Ramona said, a mischievous glint filling her emerald eyes, “I’ll make sure they hear all about it,”

* * *

George loved quidditch. 

He adored how fast-paced and dangerous the sport was. The feeling of cool wind rushing past his face as he zoomed around the pitch made him feel alive. The weight of the beater’s bat felt so natural when he gripped it tightly in his hand. He and Fred worked together like a well-oiled machine on the pitch: protecting their Gryffindor teammates and sending those pesky bludgers towards their opposition. It was unbelievably fun. 

George also loved watching quidditch, but not for the same reasons. Sure, it’s still fast-paced and exhilarating, but you have a different perspective as a spectator than you do as a player. 

From the stands, you could see all of the moving pieces that make up a game of quidditch. If you wanted, you could take a step back, and look at the game as a whole. Or, lean in further, and focus on an individual player. That’s what George was doing now: he had his eyes locked firmly on one of the seekers. Because that seeker was making him  _ incredibly _ nervous. 

It wasn’t that the seeker was a lousy player. It was quite the opposite: they were genuinely talented. It was like them and the broom were one entity. It was unbelievable to watch, but in a way that made George’s stomach churn. 

Because that seeker was Ramona Avery, and she flew like she had no concern for her personal safety. 

She was weaving and diving across the pitch, narrowly dodging bludgers and other players. Ramona pushed her broom to its absolute limit, to the point where she resembled a navy blue blur more than an actual person. And the entire time she chased that snitch, she had a smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear. To the unfamiliar eye, it would appear that she was out of control, but those who knew Ramona could tell she knew  _ exactly _ what she was doing. And it was working: the poor Hufflepuff seeker had been struggling to keep up with her the whole game. 

It had been quite a shock to the school when Ramona was selected as Ravenclaw’s next seeker. It was all the students seemed to talk about for days after tryouts. The Ravenclaws were ecstatic: apparently, Ramona’s tryout had been legendary. She’d been so incredible that the team welcomed her to the right on the spot, and didn’t even bother looking at any of the other wannabe teammates. George was incredibly jealous he wasn’t allowed to attend, but team tryouts were restricted to that house only. And this was especially the case with Ravenclaw, who kept their quidditch secrets under lock and key. The only reason the twins and Lee had heard anything about the tryouts was because Lissa, Ravenclaw’s new team manager, had a bit of a loose tongue. 

At first, it seemed that the other houses were almost  _ relieved _ at the news that Ramona had been selected as the seeker. To them, it appeared that Ravenclaw had been so desperate for a seeker that their only option was a lowly second year. Hufflepuff was counting on this being their ticket to winning the first match of the year. Boy, were they in for a shock when Madam Hooch blew the whistle and Ramona went into action. Because she wasn’t a “lowly” second year, she was a plot-twist on a broom.

“Merlin, she’s incredible!” Fred exclaimed, yelling over the crowd. 

“She is,” George replied, with a look of both admiration and concern on his face, “But if she’s not careful, she could really hurt herself,”

“Oi! Lighten up, George!” Teased Tonks, “She’s a whole lot tougher than she looks,” 

George considered this impressive, seeing as Ramona already looked incredibly tough to begin with. 

Just like Fred and George, Tonks sat with the Ravenclaw fans for the match, deciding that cheering on her little sister took precedence over her house loyalty. Tonks dressed up for the occasion, too: she’d borrowed Ramona’s Ravenclaw scarf, and her hair, which was usually a bubblegum pink, was now a bright blue. 

“YOU GET ‘EM MO!” screamed Tonks as Ramona flew overhead.

Ramona chuckled to herself at her sister’s cheer, but kept her focus on the tiny winged orb in front of her. It had been about five minutes since her captain gave her the go-ahead to catch the snitch, and with each passing second, she inched closer and closer to her goal. Ramona had stopped worrying about the Hufflepuff seeker a long time ago, as they tried and failed to keep up with her dizzying pace. The match had already been going on for an hour, and Ramona could feel exhaustion begin to creep into her body, but she ignored it. After all, she had much more pressing matters to focus on.

The snitch took a sudden dive down, and Ramona knew this was her chance. She spiraled downward, her eyes watering from the harsh skyward wind. The ground grew closer and closer, but she stayed on her course, and waited for her moment to strike. 

Careful not to disrupt her balance, she removed her feet from their stirrups and placed them on the shaft of the broom, until she was in a crouching position. Seconds before she would have hit the ground, she leaped off her broom towards the snitch, her arms and hands outstretched. 

The satisfaction of her hand wrapping around the cold metal of the snitch was the best feeling in the world, but it was soon replaced by the agony of a brutal collision with the ground. She pulled in her arms tightly and rolled through the grass. Eventually, her momentum ceased, and her body came to a halt. Leaping in the air, she ignored her body’s pleas to stop moving, and proudly held the snitch as high as she could. 

The cheers from the crowd were deafening. From the pitch, she could see her fellow Ravenclaws losing their minds in the stands. Ramona’s body ached with exhaustion, and it felt like the air had been taken from her lungs, but she was beaming. 

It wasn’t long before the rest of her team surrounded her, the seven Ravenclaws joining together in a tight group hug. Ramona typically didn’t like hugs, but at that moment, she was too exhausted to care. Instead, she bathed in the validation and acceptance from her peers, something she had been craving since she was a little girl. 

It was Tonk’s voice that caused Ramona to break from the hug, “MONA! Get your arse over here, you hot shot!”

Ramona squeezed out of her team’s embrace to see her friends waiting for her. She ran towards them, and was enveloped in another hug, this time from her older sister. Tonks squeezed her tightly and lifted her, spinning them around in circles. 

“You were incredible,” grinned Tonks, “Mum and Dad would be so…”

“Proud?” Ramona finished. 

Tonks smirked, “I was going to say ‘peeved at you for pulling that stunt,’ but yeah, proud works too,”

Unexpectedly, George pulled her into a hug, and for a second, Ramona forgot how to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away. He was smiling, but Ramona could hear worry seeping into his voice, “I mean, you were brilliant, but are you hurt?” 

“Probably,” she laughed, staring into his dark eyes, “But I don’t care,”

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon. Spring had finally arrived, and Ramona was taking advantage of the sunny day. Using her cloak as a picnic blanket, she laid out in the courtyard. Surrounding her were about a dozen library books on a wide variety of topics, and atop one stack was the all too familiar piece of magical parchment. Ramona had grabbed any book that could be remotely related to the mysterious item, which, unfortunately, the group had yet to figure out. Students were leaving for Easter Holidays the next morning, and Ramona wanted to get in as much research as she could before heading home. She was currently flipping through  _ Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts _ and jotting down notes in her current journal. 

Ramona loved keeping journals, and she’d done so as soon as she learned how to write. She often found that her mind was too crowded with thoughts, and that writing those thoughts down on paper made everything much easier to untangle. So Ramona could usually be found hunched over a leather journal, scribbling down anything that popped into her mind. She was quite protective over her journals, and did not let anyone read them. Not even Tonks had been given so much as a peek into Ramona’s writings. She was afraid that if anyone dared read what was in those pages that they would think she was mad because, truthfully, her journals contained pure chaos. But chaos was how Ramona thought, so the messy and disorganized journals were a great comfort for her. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fred remarked as he and George stumbled upon Ramona, “Are you seriously  _ studying _ right now?”

Ramona laughed as the twins approached her, “No, I’m not studying! This is just how I show my mischievous side,”

“Really?” George questioned, joining Ramona on the ground, “You’re not just saying that to cover up that you’re secretly doing extra work the night before holiday, are you?”

Ramona gave George an exaggerated nod, “I swear, boys.  _ This _ is how Ravenclaws cause trouble,”

Fred grabbed the parchment from the stack of books and put on his mock-serious front, “Then swear to us, Alene Ramona Avery, on this musty piece of parchment, that you are just as much a troublemaker as we are,” 

Ramona, going along with Fred’s bit, placed her wand upon the parchment and her other hand on her heart, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,”

The trio broke out into a chorus of hardy laughs, before they happened to glance downwards and notice what was happening in front of them. 

She couldn’t believe her eyes, “Merlin...we did it,”

Almost a full year of work had finally paid off, albeit accidentally. What was once nothing more than a black piece of parchment was now full of life. Just like the year previous, when they accidentally activated the parchment, shapes and words began to appear. But this time, they were dark and evident. 

Ramona began to read the script, “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs-” 

“What kind of names are those?” Interrupted Fred.

Ramona glared at him before continuing, “...are proud to present the Marauder's Map,”

“So it’s a map?” questioned George, “A map of what? And why did Filch have it locked up in his office?”

The trio backed away from each other and began unfolding the parchment, spreading it out until it was completely flat. They stared down at the map, trying to make sense of the odd shapes and patterns, until finally, it clicked. 

“It’s Hogwarts,” George exclaimed.

“All that work for a map of a place we  _ already _ know?” groaned Fred. 

“But it’s not just a map!” Ramona declared. She pointed to the courtyard, where three pairs of footprints stood, each with a label bearing one of their names. 

Fred’s eyes grew wide, “Is that…” 

“...us?” George finished. 

“And look! There’s Lissa in the Great Hall! And Dumbledore in his office!” Ramona said as she pointed to various locations on the map, “The map shows where everyone is in the castle!” 

“Well,” said Fred, his voice deep with mischief, “Things are about to get  _ very _ interesting,”

* * *

The expression “time flies when you’re having fun” had never meant much to Ramona before, but as she sat with her friends near the shore of the black lake, basking in the early June sun, she realized just how fast time had flown. Their second year at Hogwarts was coming to a close, and Ramona was dreading her upcoming summer of loneliness now that Tonks was an adult. 

But she pushed those thoughts away, instead trying to focus on the conversation her friends were having and the delectable taste of cauldron cakes.

“That was just so...” Fred trailed off, scratching his head. 

“Incredible?” quipped Lissa as she reached for another sweet treat. 

George signed, “Pathetic. We were pathetic,”

Oh come on,” Roger teased, “You guys weren’t that bad, and it’s not your fault Ravenclaw’s superior,” 

Roger Davies, the other second-year on the Ravenclaw quidditch team, had become a frequent member of their little friend group. Ramona was glad there was someone else from her year on the team, and Roger and she had quickly bonded over being the “babies” of the group. So now, the six compatriots, three red and three blue, sat underneath a tree, sharing the cauldron cakes Lissa’s mother had sent as an end of the year present. 

The three Gryffindors looked worse for wear, clearly bummed about their loss from a few hours previous. Lee did his best to appear impartial, as was his duty as the newly appointed quidditch announcer. However, Ramona could see the pangs of disappointment as the twins discussed the match. 

The Ravenclaws, on the other hand, were ecstatic. After all, who wouldn’t be thrilled to beat Gryffindor and win the Quidditch House cup all in one day? Lissa was exceptionally proud of herself, as it was her brilliant yet straightforward strategy that had won them the match.

The Gryffindor team was bold, as was in their nature. As soon as the whistle was blown, they would be going their hardest, scoring most of the points within the game’s first minutes. But the Ravenclaws were patient, and so they waited. Waited for the red-robed team to tire themselves out, and then the Ravenclaws  _ destroyed _ them.

“I just don’t get it. I aimed Merlin knows how many bludgers your way Mona, and you dodged every one!” Cried George.

“Hmmph,” she said, rising from her horizontal position by propping up on her elbows. She smirked, “sounds like a problem with your aim,”

“It wouldn’t kill you to take one bludger hit, you know. And it would certainly go a long way in repairing our damaged egos,” Fred pouted, ripping up the grass in front of him. 

Lissa cackled, “What makes you think she had time to care about your egos? She’s far too busy polishing her own,”

Ramona stuck her tongue out at her best friend before joining in on the laughter. She loved the relationship she and Lissa had formed over the past two years. They both deeply cared for the other, but showed their affection through jokes and poking fun. Ramona was grateful for this aspect of their friendship, as she was never very good at expressing her genuine feelings for others without a hefty dose of sarcasm on top. 

George joined in, “Mo? An ego? Says who?” 

Mo. He’d never called her Mo before. No one had ever called her Mo before. It seemed a bit bizarre hearing herself referred to as “Mo.” A nickname of a nickname; so very far away from the first name she’d always despised. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. After all, it was only the first time she’d heard it. But she did like the way it sounded coming out of George’s mouth.

Ramona decided that George Weasley was the only one who was allowed to call her Mo.


	3. secret passages

**Year Three (snippets)**

* * *

Ramona was practically skipping down platform nine and three-quarters, which forced Andromeda and Ted to speed walk to keep up with their youngest daughter. But Ramona couldn’t help it: she had missed her friends so much, and couldn’t wait to see them. She never thought she’d be excited about going back to Hogwarts. 

Eventually, her parents caught up to her, wrapping her in a big hug. 

“What am I going to do without my Mona?” her father whined. He pulled his face into an exaggerated pout.

“I think you’ll live, dad,” she replied, both enjoying and embarrassed by the public affection from her parents. 

Andromeda pulled a small pouch out from her pocket and handed it to her daughter. Ramona took the purse, hearing the familiar sound of coins. 

“For your first Hogsmeade weekend, so you can get those new quidditch gloves you’ve had your eye on. Plus, there should be some sickles leftover so you can treat your friends to some butterbeer,” Andromeda explained. 

Ramona was ecstatic at the surprise, and immediately pulled her mother into an embrace. While on the outside, Andromeda appeared very cold and intimidating, her character was of no such sort. She was a warm, loving, and an incredibly excellent mother. Ted was very much the same, although his nature was much more relaxed compared to his wife. Everyday Ramona was grateful to have such a wonderful surrogate mother and father, and she hated to think what her life would have been like if they hadn’t taken her in. 

It was the sound of two familiar voices that pulled Ramona’s attention away from her parents. Twisting her head around, she saw the Weasley family’s trademark hair and was suddenly itching to run and find the twins. Ramona turned back to her parents, and as much as she would miss them, she was eager to get a move on. Her parents were very aware of her impatience.

Andromeda’s smile was bright, “Go. And say hi to the Weasleys for us!” 

“I will!” responded Ramona as she raced towards the red-headed family, one hand pulling her trunk and the other holding Olive’s carrier. She found Fred and George at the carriage entrance, helping a younger dark-hair boy load his belongings on the train. The twins hadn’t spotted her yet, and she used this to her advantage. 

Ramona leaned between them, “Hello boys,”

Startled, they whipped around to face her, only for their faces to turn from fright to delight.

“Mona!” they yelled in unison. Once again, she was enveloped in a hug. Ramona didn’t particularly enjoy hugs, but she’d learned to appreciate the embrace over the years. 

“It’s so good to see you,” George remarked as they pulled away. 

Ramona blushed, “Ditto. And who might this be?”

The young boy looked up at her through his circular glasses, “Harry Potter,”

George could see it; that split second when Ramona’s face dropped, as if she recalled a troubling thought. But she was quick to mask it with a fake, yet convincing smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Ramona,” she stuck out her hand, and Harry nervously shook it. 

Ramona never introduced herself with her last name, a habit George had picked up on.

It was the voice of Mrs. Weasley that interrupted the introductions, “Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming, Mom,” Fred called, “We’ll meet you on the train, alright?” 

She nodded, and the twins left, and she wasted no time. Ramona quickly made her way to the first empty carriage she could find, slamming the door shut. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and relished in what she knew was going to be her last moment of silence for the rest of the day. How quickly her mood had changed: she’d been so excited to reunite with her friends, but now all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and wallow in solitude.

_ Has it really been ten years? _

In need of a distraction, Ramona released Olive from her carrier. The curious cat stretched and explored its new surroundings. Ramona took the seat closest to the window, and leaned her head against the cool wall of the train, watching her clumsy cat struggle to jump from seat to seat. Absentmindedly, she gazed out the window at the families saying their goodbyes. But her mind was in a different place entirely. 

It wasn’t long before the twins wandered in with Lee in tow. Lissa and Roger arrived minutes later, just as the train began to pull out of the station. Ramona made her best attempts to greet them, but then returned to her window. She wanted to participate; she tried to laugh with her friends, but she just couldn’t bring herself to. 

Her friends were too caught up talking and sharing stories of their summer (something about Lee and a giant tarantula) to notice Ramona’s absent nature. A blessing for Ramona as the last thing she wanted to be at the moment was the center of attention. 

But George had noticed. He knew something was troubling Ramona from the moment he entered the carriage. So, he sat next to her, and while the others engaged in a lively conversation, George observed Ramona. 

The summer had changed her, but only slightly. Her dark brown hair was still in its signature braids, but they weren’t as neat as they usually were. Now, a few loose pieces of hair fell and framed her face. Her hands, which currently were busy petting Olive, were adorned with rings, and her nails painted black. It was the tapping of her foot which drew his attention first. It was one of Ramona’s nervous habits, but the volume was accented by the new black boots she wore.

George leaned close to her, careful not to alert the others to his words, “Are you okay?”

Ramona nodded, “I’m fine,” A blatant lie.

He shook his head, “Mo, I know you better than that. Something’s bothering you,”

Ramona broke her gaze from the window and looked down at Olive, content and purring in her lap. How easy it was for the cat to be so content with life. Olive didn’t have to worry about others’ opinions; she just existed in her own special world. Ramona was very jealous of her feline companion.

“It just…” she said after a while, her voice soft and unsure, “It’s my parents,”

“Andromeda and Ted?” George questioned, “What happened? I just saw them at the platform, and they seemed fine. Is something-”

“Not them,” she interrupted, “I mean...my  _ parents _ , George,”

Everything clicked in his brain. Her reaction to meeting Harry, her sudden silence, her far off gaze. It was almost easy to forget about Ramona’s origins. He and Fred had never cared about her family’s history, and she never dared talk about it, so the thought had been pushed into the back of his mind long ago. 

“It’s just…I know My family must have had something to do with the Potters deaths,” she admitted hesitantly, “I mean, I don’t know for sure. But my grandfather was so close with you-know-who, I know he was involved. Seeing him…I can’t help but feel a little guilty,”

George didn’t respond. Partly because he had no idea how to, but mostly it was because this was the most open Ramona had been since he met her, and he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by saying something stupid. 

Ramona was practically whispering at this point, and George had to lean closer to catch her words, “What if everything goes back to the way it was? What if Harry coming to Hogwarts brings back all those memories, and everyone starts to hate me again?”

“You aren’t your parents, Mo. You’re so much greater than they ever could be. And if people can’t see that, they don’t deserve the incredible person you really are. Got it?” comforted George. 

Ramona couldn’t look him in the eyes. She was too busy fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She hated crying; it made her feel so weak and pathetic. And she was not going to cry in front of George Weasley. So instead, She chewed on her bottom lip and welcomed the distraction the pain provided. 

“If anybody gives you grief,” George added, motioning to the rest of the carriage’s occupants, “They’ll have to go through us,”

Knowing that a group of people would fight on her behalf was both terrifying and comforting at the same time. 

In a moment of impulse, George let his fingers intertwine with her free hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. The warmth of his large hand thawing her small, cold hand. Ramona squeezed back, as if to say, “thank you for listening.” Her face turned around to the window, but her hand remained firmly in his. 

Neither of them dared to let go until the train pulled into Hogsmeade station.

* * *

“Could you walk any louder?” whispered Ramona as they navigated, “You two could rival erumpents, I swear,” 

Their first night of exploring had already been a success; the Marauder's Map proved very useful. Thus far, they had avoided all authority and explored parts of the castle they’d never seen before. The twins already had many new ideas for pranks, and Ramona was having a ball learning all of Hogwarts’ secrets. 

Right now, they were navigating a secret passage that had taken them from the third floor to the tapestry hallway on the first. It was approaching midnight, and the trio crept through the passages, hiding in the shadows from patrolling prefects. 

They double-checked the map, and once they determined the coast was clear, they exited the passage through a brightly colored tapestry of a dragon. Its body was a silvery blue, and it angrily blew fire all across the woven decoration. 

“Just think of it, all the pranks we can pull. And before anyone gets a glimpse of who’s behind the  _ genius plan _ , we’ve already half-way across the castle,” plotted Fred as he observed the rest of the hallway. 

The trio spent some time there, looking at the rest of the tapestries. Had it been daylight, they wouldn’t have cast a second glance at the decorations. But there was something so much more thrilling about being where they knew they weren’t supposed to be that made observing the tapestries all the more enjoyable. 

Fred wandered farther down the hallway, but George and Ramona stayed near the secret passage. Ramona was particularly intrigued by a tapestry depicting an early game of quidditch. George stood near her side, transfixed by the map in his hands. But as he examined the dynamic map, his mind quickly changed from curiosity to concern. 

“Filch is coming,” whispered George, pointing to the map.

“Shit,” Ramona said, as she tried to get the attention of the other twin, “Fred! FRED!”

But there was no more time to warn him. As Filch rounded the corner, George pulled Ramona back into the secret passage. He knew their footsteps would echo and give away their hiding spot. So he kept them still, and waited as Fred was caught. 

They stood, face to face; the passage so small that their chests nearly touched, and they could feel the warmth of each other’s breath. George had grown over the summer, so now he towered over her, looking down and her still face. A small shimmer of moonlight leaked into the secret hallway and landed on Ramona’s cheek. 

It was like George was seeing her for the first time. The wisps of hair that fell in front of her face, her silky eyelashes, the shape of her lips: they all made his heart dance in a way it never had before. And then she opened her eyes, and the jade irises glowed in the moonlight. Ramona stared back into his eyes, and for a moment, they both froze, neither blinking. In the dead silence, they could practically hear the other’s heart beating. 

He broke their gaze, and started to traverse down the passageway. Ramona followed closely behind him. 

George’s mind was cloudy and confused. He decided that he needed to go to bed immediately, and hoped that in the morning, his heart would stop feeling the way it did right then: all fluttery and light. At the end of the tunnel, he whispered a quiet “goodnight” and raced toward the Gryffindor dormitories. 

Ramona watched him walk away; her mind was also overrun with unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. 

_ Had there always been specks of gold in his eyes? _

* * *

Fresh, powdery snow had fallen the previous evening, making Hogsmeade look like a picture-perfect winter wonderland. The shops were bustling with students buying Christmas presents and laughing with friends. Ramona would have done the same, if she hadn’t been furious. 

Currently, the friends were all enjoying a butterbeer at the three broomsticks. The twins showed Lee all the goodies they picked up at Zonko’s, including a rather impressive array of fireworks they planned to use in a spectacular Christmas themed prank. Roger and Lissa were on Ramona’s side of the table, both nose deep in newly purchased books. And Ramona just sat there, glaring and pouting at her mostly full flagon of butterbeer, as if she was willing it to do something. 

“Alright, I’ve had enough,” proclaimed Lissa, slamming her book closed and facing her sullen friend, “What’s got you so pissed off? You’re not seriously still upset about class yesterday, are you?”

Ramona didn’t say anything. Instead, she just took a large gulp of her beverage, wishing the sugary beverage would sweeten her mood as well as her taste buds. 

“What happened in class?” Asked Fred from across the table. 

“Malcolm Travers. He stole her idea, and Quirrell gave him five house points for sharing his ‘compelling insight’ with the class,” Roger explained, doing his best impersonation of their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Malcolm Travers had always been a pain in her neck. His obsessive distaste for Ramona had seemingly doubled this year with the presence of Harry Potter. Ramona had gotten very good at ignoring him over the past few years, but there was only so much she could take. 

However, Ramona was currently more occupied with her dislike of Professor Quirrel. Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of her favorite subjects, second only to transfiguration. Yet somehow, in only a few short months, Quirrel had taken the subject from thrilling to painstakingly dull. 

“Plus, that bastard only gave me an E on my last essay,” Ramona mumbled under her breath. 

As if summoned, George watched as Professor Quirrel, turban and all, waltzed past the Three Broomsticks’ windows. An idea appeared in his head: a childish idea, but one he knew would bring a smile to her face. 

“Come on Fred, Mo,” George commanded, standing up from the table, “We have business to attend to,” 

“Business?” Ramona asked, shooting a confused look at Fred. The other twin just shrugged; he, too, had no idea what George was up to. 

The trio exerted the pub and braced the frigid winter wind. Ramona shivered and pulled her knit hat down over her ears. The twins had sped ahead, and she had no doubt George was currently filling in Fred on whatever outrageous prank he had planned. 

George led them up the path towards Hogwarts, before veering off to crouch behind a large boulder. He mentioned for the others to join him, before grabbing a handful of snow and packing it into a ball. Fred joined in.

“What are you waiting for? An invitation,” quipped Fred, adding another snowball to the pile.

She shook her head, “Not until one of you tells me what’s going on,”

“But then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” laughed George. 

She gave in and stuck her gloved hands in the powdery snow. Soon they had an impressive stack of snowballs, and Ramona still had no clue why. 

That’s when she spotted him: Quirrel, making his way back to the castle. George muttered a spell over the pile, and slowly, one by one, each snowball floated upwards and began to follow their turbaned teacher. 

Ramona had to cover her laugh to keep from revealing their location as the first snowball landed on the back of his head. Quirrel shrieked and turned around to confront his attacker, only to go pale when he realized no one was there. Soon the snowballs sped up, and continued to pelt the back of his turban again and again and again. He ran towards the castle, screaming the whole way. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, the trio let out their laughs, their happy sounds echoing through the hills. Ramona fell back into the snow, no longer caring about the cold, and let the laughter take over her body. 

“Feel better?” George asked her, his laughter subsiding. 

“Much,” She replied. Sitting up, she turned to him, a brilliant smile plastered on her face, “Thank you, George,” 

And now, whenever Quirrell’s droning became exceedingly dull, Ramona would imagine the snowballs pelting the back of his head, and it never failed to entertain her. 

* * *

They ducked into an empty classroom, narrowly eluding the patrolling prefects. Despite having the Marauder's map on their side, the trio seemed to only narrowly escape capture whenever they were out exploring. 

The classroom was old and dusty; clearly, nothing had been taught in there for years. It seemed utterly abandoned, except for the many pairs of footprints in the dust. As the twins distracted themselves with Merlin-knows-what, Ramona followed the impressions on the floor. They lead her to a dark corner of the room, where nothing but a mirror. 

Except it wasn’t a typical mirror, because what stared back at her wasn’t her typical reflection. 

“Mona? Where’d you run off to?” called Fred. 

“Over here,” she replied, never breaking her gaze with the mirror. 

The twins joined her, puzzled by Ramona’s curious behavior.

“Tell me what you see,” She said after a long beat of silence. 

Fred traded places with her, and it wasn’t long before his face showed a look of excitement, “It’s our joke shop, George! I can’t believe it!” 

George joined his twin at the mirror, “Wicked! It’s just how I imagined it! What is this thing?” 

“I have no idea,” she muttered softly. 

“C’mon, we told you ours. Now spill: what do you see?” Fred asked her, still giddy from his experience with the mysterious mirror. 

Hesitantly, she stepped back in front of the mirror. She didn’t quite know what it was she was looking at. It was herself, obviously, but older. Much older. And gentler, calmer. At peace _. Not her mother.  _

“Mo?” Ramona snapped out of her trance and looked at George, “What do you see?”

“Oh, nothing,” she stammered, “Just an older version of myself,” 

“Pff. Lame. Ours was way cooler, Georgie,” Fred scoffed. He waved the map in front of their faces, “Are we ready to move on?”

“Sure,” Ramona replied, stealing one last glance at the future version of her she always desired to be. 

* * *

“Back off, Travers,” 

“Not a chance,” sneered Malcolm, as he inched closer to Ramona, “I think someone finally needs to put Avery in her place,”

Malcolm Travers was at it again, except this time, he was looking to take things a step further. 

He and his posse blocked her path, so her only way out was through. 

Her wand was drawn. And so was his. 

And so were the Twins’, which was not helping diffuse the already hefty tension. 

“Stand down, Weasleys,” Ramona barked, “Trust me, I can take him,” 

Hesitantly, Fred and George stowed their wands, but they did not back away from her. Instead, they stood tall, like they were Ramona’s bodyguards. Or attack dogs.

By now, a cluster of students had formed around the rivals, eager to watch a good duel between two of third year's brightest students. 

Ramona had never dueled outside of class before. Up until this moment, she’d never been in a situation where a duel was the logical situation. She wasn’t even sure if a duel was the logical solution to her current problem, but there she was, her wand at the ready and her mind busy choosing the perfect hex. 

“You think you can fool them?” Malcolm interrogated, “Trick them with your fancy flying and good grades? Maybe they’ll fall for it, but I know  _ exactly _ what you are,”

Ramona was losing patience, “And what am I?”

“You’re a traitor—a disgrace. You tarnish the pureblood legacy. You’re an heir to a fortune you don’t deserve because you’d rather spend your time frolicking with second-hand wizards like the Weasleys than with us  _ actual _ wizards,” 

It took everything George had in him not to sock Travers in the jaw. 

“You think you’re better than everyone, Ramona Avery. And I can’t wait to show everyone what a failure you truly are.  _ Petrificus Total- _ ” 

Malcolm was fast, but Ramona was faster. She blocked every one of his attacks, muttering protective spells under her breath so her opponent would not hear. 

She tried to remain focused, but she was furious. Enraged. How dare he speak to her like that? What gave him the right to judge her? A traitor? He didn’t know her. He only knew  _ of _ her. Of her family. He didn’t see how hard she worked to prove herself. To show the wizarding world that she would not fail them as her family had. Because Ramona Avery was a lot of things. 

_ But she was not a failure.  _

Her anger reached a boiling point, and she could feel the heat rising in her chest. She knew anger had a way of messing with her mind, stripping away all logic and replacing it with impulse and emotion. It was a temper tantrum that caused one of her first bouts of accidental magic when she was five years old, and since Ramona had learned to be careful mixing magic and anger. She tried to fight her rage, but it was too strong, so she gave in. 

Ramona wasn’t too familiar with the spell that left her lips. It was one she’d only glanced at in an advanced transfiguration textbook. She knew it was dangerous, and especially risky, but she didn’t care.

Because the sound of his scream made it all worth it.

Malcolm’s wand clattered to the ground, and the hand that once held the magical tool now resembled that of a feline paw. He was freaking out, cursing and screaming at Ramona to change it back. But she just stood there, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. Who’s the failure now?

“What is the meaning of this?” bellowed Professor McGonagall as she raced towards the scene, “Miss Avery, is this your doing?”

Ramona hung her head ever so slightly. She hadn’t thought her plan through, clearly, as she never imagined what she would do if she got caught. 

She hurried to explain herself, “In my defense, Professor: he started it. And I was merely-”

“That’s enough,” McGonagall interrupted. She pointed to Malcolm’s friends, “You two, take Mr. Travers to the Hospital Wing. I will join you there shortly. Miss Avery, if you will follow me please,” 

Ramona trailed behind McGonagall, shooing away the Weasleys who had attempted to follow. She didn’t need them getting in trouble too. 

The walk to Professor McGonagall’s office occurred in silence. Ramona didn’t dare say a word in case it made her situation worse than it already was. Eventually, they reached the professor’s office, and she sat in front of McGonagall’s desk, her head still hung in shame. 

“Do you remember what I told the class on the first day of Transfiguration?” McGonagall asked. 

Ramona felt like crying, “You said that under no circumstances were we allowed to use transfiguration outside of class. And that if we were caught...we would be removed from the class indefinitely,” 

The professor nodded, “Miss Avery: from henceforth, I am permanently removing you from any future Transfiguration courses,”

Now Ramona was crying. She’d never screwed up like this before. Sure, it felt good to put Travers in his place, but losing her favorite subject? And any future hopes she had of becoming an auror? Ramona felt the world start to fall apart around her. 

“Instead, you will meet me here, two evenings a week, for a private lesson,” 

Her head snapped up, tears still running down her cheeks. Ramona studied the older woman’s face, trying to read her expression. As always, it was firm and unmoving. 

Ramona struggled to understand her situation, “I-I don’t…but you said-”

“You have a gift Ramona, and your skills surpass those of your classmates. You’re already an incredibly talented witch, and I’d like to help you grow even further. You deserve a challenge, not a punishment. And between you and me, Mr. Travers had it coming,” 

Ramona was speechless, and she couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor even if she tried. 

From inside her desk, McGonagall pulled out a small tin of treats. 

“Have a biscuit, Avery,”

* * *

Ramona winced as Madam Pomfrey wrapped the bandages tightly around her wrist. The matron had been able to repair the broken bones, but had informed Ramona that she’d experience some soreness over the next few days. 

The final quidditch match of the year was over and done, and once again, Ravenclaw had wiped the floor with Gryffindor. To be fair, Ravenclaw was at an advantage since Gryffindor’s star seeker was currently lying comatose in a hospital bed a few feet away from her. But still, no one had expected Gryffindor to lose by  _ that much _ .

It had been a rough game for everyone. Not a single player left the match unscathed, and currently, every hospital bed was occupied by either a red or blue jersey. 

“Feel any better?” asked Lissa, who was sitting next to her on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Ramona replied as she examined her bandaged wrist, “I hope it finishes healing quickly though, otherwise taking our exams are going to prove difficult,” 

Her first significant quidditch injury, and it just had to be her dominant hand during exam season. Figures. 

The Weasley twins entered the hospital wing, and George’s eyes immediately began scanning for his person of interest. They had managed to escape a trip to the hospital wing, as their injuries consisted of mostly bruises and a bloody nose. 

“Mo!” he called out when he finally spotted her amongst a sea of quidditch players and fans.

George thought she looked rather untamed compared to her usual pristine appearance, but in the best way possible. Her long hair was out of its braids, wavy and wild from being tied up for so long. Dirt and dried blood decorated her face. Like the twins, she still wore her quidditch jumper, and George thought it suited her quite nicely. But what was drawing his attention was the bandages and splint around her right wrist. 

“Hello, boys,” Ramona sang, holding up her injured arm, “Wanna tell me which one of you is responsible for this?”

A bludger hit was responsible for her current predicament, which meant that one of the red-headed twins standing before her was responsible. 

George opened his mouth to answer, but Ramona loudly laughed, “I’m just teasing, I really don’t care. I’ll be good as new in a few days anyway,” 

George wished he was comforted by her words, but he wasn’t. He’d sent the bludger her way, thinking that like always, she’d dodge it. But today, for some reason, she’d taken the hit. 

“Ugh, you two!” Ramona groaned, “What’s with the long faces? You practically begged me to take a hit last year? But now that it’s finally happened, you’re pouting?”

“Your team demolished us, Mona. It’s hard not to pout,” explained Fred, “If only Harry had been awake, then we may have stood a chance,” 

The group looked across the busy hospital wing to the sleeping first year. Truthfully, Ramona was thankful she hadn’t needed to play against Harry quite yet. He’d been a much better seeker than she expected, and she knew her work was cut out for her when they inevitably faced off. 

George finally spoke, “I’m sorry you got hurt, Mo,” 

She offered him a comforting smile, “Thanks, George. But really, I’m fine. It’s all part of the game, right?”

He nodded in response, and matched the smile on her face with his own. 

“Come on, guys, let’s get out of here. I don’t plan to spend any more time in the Hospital Wing than I have to,” Ramona proclaimed, jumping off the bed. She walked towards the door, and her friends followed. 

“What a game,” gloated Lissa as she skipped to keep up with Ramona, “I mean, we won by what, three hundred points? That’s insane!”

Fred groaned, “Please, don’t remind us,”


	4. pining

**Year Four (snippets)**

* * *

“You stole your dad’s car? Brilliant!” exclaimed Ramona,

“It was,” beamed Fred.

“Although we got in a right bit of trouble with mum,” George explained, “I reckon she’ll be cross with us for weeks!”

“I’d say it’s worth it. Those awful muggles were treating Harry horribly. You did the right thing,” Ramona affirmed as she searched through piles of books, keeping an eye out for any exciting texts she hasn’t already read, “Then again, I’ve never had to face the wrath of Molly Weasley, so what do I know,”

The friends had to yell just to be heard over the bustling crowd in Flourish and Blotts. The trio accidentally reunited while shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, their meeting coincided with Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing event, so the already popular wizarding shop was much busier than usual. 

Typically, Ramona didn’t do much shopping for school. She preferred to use Tonks’s old textbooks, as they were full of her sister’s notes. Tonks had quite a mischievous streak, which often made people overlook her brilliance. But she was much more intelligent than others gave her credit for, evident by her perfect scores on her N.E.W.T.s. With her O.W.L.s coming up next year, Ramona could use all the extra help she could get. 

Currently, Ramona was searching for an incredibly elusive transfiguration text. Her private lessons with McGonagall had been going very well, and Ramona was thoroughly enjoying the challenging work. However, McGonagall had assigned her very advanced texts for the upcoming year. Since it was not part of the typical curriculum, that meant having to brave Diagon Alley’s crowds. But her outing hadn’t been all bad. After all, she’d ran into the Weasleys and managed to procure a new journal for her fourth year. 

The trio observed as Harry was forcibly pulled to the shop’s front by Lockhart himself, cameras aggressively flashing as the celebrities posed for the Daily Prophet. Ramona couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young boy, who appeared incredibly uncomfortable with the amount of attention on himself. 

George wasn’t paying attention to the pandemonium at the front of the store. Instead, his focus was on Ramona. The summer had treated her incredibly well. He knew from her letters that she’d spent most of her days training for the upcoming quidditch season, and he could tell from looking at her that her obsessive work had paid off. Her skin now had a golden hue from all her time in the sun, and the muscles in her arms were more defined. Her attire was unchanged: she wore her usual ripped black jeans and a tee-shirt from a muggle band he didn’t recognize underneath her cloak. Her shoes were new, though: black boots with a heel that made her only a few inches shorter than the twins. George was particularly entranced by her earrings, which seemed to sparkle in the light. 

“Are those Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans on your earrings, Mo?” He chuckled as he whispered in her ear. 

“Aren’t they fantastic?” Ramona beamed, shaking her head back and forth, letting the earrings jingled as they made contact with the sides of her face, “They’re an early birthday present from Dora,” 

“How is Tonks?” George inquired, leaning against a bookcase, “She’s still doing that auror training, right?” 

Ramona nodded excitedly, “She loves it! I mean, every once and a while, she comes home covered in blood and bruises, but she still has a massive smile on her face. Merlin! I can’t wait until it’s my turn to start auror training!”

George shuddered at the thought of Ramona voluntarily putting herself in danger like that. Surely there must be another career she’d be good at that’d be much safer?

He turned back to respond to his friend, but she was already distracted by an altercation occurring on the other side of the shop. Ramona made her way to the source of the argument, and the twins followed. 

By the time the trio had made it to the chaotic scene, Arthur Weasley was already lunging at Lucius Malfoy. Fred and George were cheering loudly for their father. Ramona chose to stay silent, but she couldn’t help but let a smirk spread across her face as she watched a fist pummel the elder Malfoy’s eye. 

Historically, the Avery and Malfoy families have always been close. The Avery’s were the most powerful pureblood family, with the Malfoys trailing very close behind. Of course, with the Averys’ downfall in the early eighties, the Malfoys were now the most elite wizarding family in England. 

Despite her family’s connection, Ramona has rarely encountered the Malfoys during her lifetime. It wasn’t until last year when Draco began attending Hogwarts that she learned how much she detested the Malfoy family. She found Draco to be a pompous arsehole, and tended to avoid him at all costs. 

As Hagrid broke up the fathers’ fight, she began walking away with the rest of the Weasleys, falsely assuming that the situation had finished. 

“Why Miss Avery,” Lucius’s cool voice called, “I hardly recognized you, although I would know those eyes anywhere.” 

Ramona froze in her spot. She didn’t want to spend any more time around the Malfoys, but her curiosity got the best of her. 

She turned to face him, “Why would you? I’ve never seen you before in my life,”

“I can understand why you believe that, Alene, but that’s simply not true,” He corrected, inching closer to her, “I believe you were almost four the last time I saw you. And now you’re practically a woman. Time has flown quite fast, hasn’t it?”

Ramona had nothing to say, so she kept silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. 

At this point, there was a Weasley twin standing guard on each side of her. Lucius glared at both of them individually.

“Your mother and father had such high hopes for you. But for you to be associated with these blood traitorous Weasleys,” he made a tsk sound with his tongue, “...it’s such a shame. You had such potential. I blame my wretched sister-in-law for that: she ruined you before you even had a chance,”

“Full offense, Mr. Malfoy, but I’d rather be ‘a shame’ than turn out like your cocky prick of a son,” Ramona spat, her eyes never moving from his. 

Mr. Malfoy’s lip twitched, and Ramona could see bits of anger bubble to the surface of his face, “I’ll have you know, Miss Avery, that when your parents were captured, we were only days away from finalizing a nuptial agreement between you and my, as you say, ‘cocky prick of a son.’ A blessing, really, now that I know what you’d grow up to become,” 

The twins began gagging at the concept of a marriage between Ramona and Draco. George felt a pang of jealousy rise in his chest at the thought of Ramona being with anyone.  _ Where had that come from? _

Ramona just laughed at the pure ridiculousness of the entire situation. “Well, I suppose we  _ both _ dodged a hex with that one, Lucius. After all, the only name I hate as much as my own is ‘Malfoy’”

Lucius took one more step closer to Ramona. He now towered over her, and looked down at the young lady with disgust, “You’re more like your mother than you realize. I would be cautious, Alene Avery, as it was the same arrogance you possess that was Evangeline’s downfall,” 

And with that, the Malfoys marched out of Flourish and Blotts, leaving a fuming Ramona behind in their wake.

* * *

“Alright, class,” bellowed Professor Sprout, “Collecting bubotuber pus can be tricky business, so you’ll be needing a partner. One Hufflepuff and one Ravenclaw per pairing, please! And don’t forget your dragon-hide gloves!”

Ramona and Lissa groaned. The best friends were always partners, regardless of the class. Hesitantly, the girls split up and started searching for a yellow-robbed partner to work with. 

“Partners?” she heard a voice ask behind her. Ramona spun around and was greeted with a familiar grin. 

“Sure, Cedric. I’d love to be partners,”

He smiled in response, and the fourth year students got straight to work. 

Ramona and Cedric have always been friendly towards each other, although Ramona suspected that his friendliness had another motivation behind it. It was in Cedric’s nature to be flirtatious, but he had always been incredibly flirty with Ramona. Usually, she’d just ignored it and maintained a friendly relationship with him, but she was feeling especially bold today. 

“You’re surprisingly good at this, Avery,” Cedric cooed as Ramona emptied another one of the bulbs, “Although I’m afraid your talents are wasted, since there’s never been a day of your life that you’ve needed the acne-curing properties of bubotuber,” 

Ramona giggled as warmth flooded her cheeks, “Is that your sneaky way of telling me I have nice skin, Diggory?”

He smirked, “I suppose it is,” 

She smirked back, secretly enjoying the attention. 

He moved closer to her, leaning in so only she could hear his words, “So, Ramona, who here do you think will be clumsy enough to squirt themselves in the face?”

She scanned the greenhouse and pointed to a pair across the room. They watched as, sure enough, one of the partners began to scream as boils appeared on her goop covered face. Professor Sprout immediately went into action, helping wipe off the poor girl’s face. Ramona and Cedric were careful to keep their laughs to themselves. 

It was now Cedric’s turn, so Ramona took a step back and let the dark-haired Hufflepuff get to work. She should have been paying attention to what he was doing, but she was too distracted by his appearance.

To say he was attractive would be a gross understatement. In their year, everyone recognized Cedric as the “golden boy,”; the one to “get.” He was intimidating, and Ramona had no idea what he saw in her. But she allowed herself to ponder on the idea of them being together. And instantly, she felt a pang of guilt. 

Ramona had recognized her potential feelings for George over the summer. She was always excited to receive a letter from one of her friends, but when a letter from George would arrive, she would get this fluttery feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away for hours. She soon realized what that fluttery feeling meant, and spent the rest of her summer ruminating on her newfound crush. Seeing George in person only amplified the feeling. Ramona quickly realized that she would need to start pushing them down if she wasn’t brave enough to make her feelings known. She told herself that it was for the best, that their friendship meant more than any adolescent infatuation ever could. And besides, there’s no way George felt anything for her. Ramona considered herself a very observant person, and had George felt any romantic feelings for her, she would have noticed. 

So she pushed aside her guilt, and gave herself permission to like Cedric. After all, she knew Cedric liked her, so he was a much safer bet than anything with George, and she relished that safety. 

Cedric looked up at her, a curious glint in his eyes, “What’s on your mind, Ramona?”

“Nothing,” she replied with a flirty grin, “Just thinking,”

* * *

“Blimey!” yelped Fred, “Is that blood?”

The annual Halloween feast had just ended, and hundreds of students were pouring out of the Great Hall and towards their respective dormitories. But the crowd stopped suddenly in front of a bloody message scrawled on the wall. 

A frenzy of whispers surrounded George as students attempted to decipher what the message meant, but George was more distracted by something else. 

Another large group of students stood on the other side of the message, and in front of that group stood Ramona. What troubled George was that she was standing awfully close to Cedric Diggory. 

Ramona caught his eye from across the corridor and offered a small smile and wave. He waved back before motioning to the bloody wall and mouthing:  _ Do you know what’s going on? _

She shook her head and mouthed  _ No idea _ before turning back to Cedric. The Hufflepuff leaned in close to her, whispering something undetectable in her ear. 

“Everyone will proceed to the dormitories immediately,” commanded Professor Dumbledore. 

And so the students dispersed, but George stole one last glance at Ramona as she disappeared around the corner. 

_ Since when was she friends with Cedric? _

* * *

It was a dreary day in Hogsmeade. The winter chill had arrived, but not the snow, so the day was cold and bleak with nothing to show for it. It was only Fred, George, and Lee out this weekend. Lissa had frog choir practice, Roger was busy practicing for an upcoming quidditch match, and Ramona had decided to stay back and get some extra studying done. 

Currently, the three Gryffindors were busy perusing the new stock at Zonko’s. Fred and Lee were having a fantastic time, but George’s heart wasn’t in it. He missed Ramona’s company. She’d been so preoccupied recently with her classes, and George had been looking forward to spending some time with her in Hogsmeade. But alas, he was once again without her. 

George did a double-take when he noticed her walk past the windows. Immediately, he raced out of the shop to follow her. 

Ramona was in her own world, headphones in, ignoring the world around her. She admired the window displays, her journal in one hand, and her music player in the other. 

It was a gift from her parents for her fifteenth birthday, along with a load of cassettes. Ramona took it with her everywhere she went, one headphone always in, listening to her favorite songs. George didn’t quite understand her fascination with muggle music, or music in general for that matter. Nevertheless, he loved seeing her so excited about something. 

Ramona ducked into the quidditch supply store, and George followed. He didn’t let his presence be known yet, as he wanted another moment to observe her, so relaxed and untroubled. 

She bobbed and swayed to whatever song she was listening to. Her hand gracefully traced the handle of the broom she was looking at. 

George approached her slowly and pulled out one of her headphones, “Studying hard, eh?”

Ramona jumped and spun around, “George! Blimey, you frightened me!”

“I’m sorry!” he laughed, “But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you said you had work to do?”

“I finished my work!” she explained, “I needed some fresh air, so I thought I’d stop by for a bit. I was on my way to find you guys, but I just needed to see the new Nimbus brooms up close,”

George moved to stand next to her and gaze upon the glorious broom in front of him. The Nimbus 2001, newly released, and way pricier than any broom he’d ever had a chance to ride on.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” remarked Ramona as she continued to ogle at the broom, “I swear, one of these days I’m going to nick a Slytherin broom just so I can get a chance to ride one,”

He smiled. George loved when she got mischievous. In the quiet, he could faintly hear the sounds of Ramona’s music coming through the unused headphone. 

“What are you listening to?” he asked. 

Ramona offered the headphone to him, “You want to hear?”

George nodded, and she gently placed the headphone inside of his ear. 

Ramona’s calm demeanor did not match her music whatsoever. It was loud and aggressive, with heavy drums and strong bass. Once again, her head was bobbing up and down. George wasn’t sure that he actually enjoyed the music, but she did, and that’s all he cared about. 

And that’s how they stayed, wandering around Hogsmeade, connected through her music. They stopped by Honeydukes, and were currently sharing a packet of fudge flies. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her beauty scored by a soundtrack of her favorite songs. 

A few days ago, he’d finally come to his senses about his attraction to Ramona. It was a major reason he was so disheartened to hear she wasn’t coming with them to Hogsmeade. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that anything would come from his crush. Nonetheless, he savored every moment he spent with her, and at night, he allowed himself to fantasize about a future with her. It was silly, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. 

But just like that, his heart was crushed as he watched Cedric walk past them. Ramona’s demeanor instantly changed, and she waved coyly at him. He waved back; Ramona’s eyes didn’t leave him until the Hufflepuff was out of her sight. 

That’s when George saw it: the look on Ramona’s face. That lovey-dovey, infatuated look. He loathed it, especially since he knew she’d never look at him that way. 

But if only he knew the way Ramona looked at him when he wasn’t paying attention. The way her face glowed with admiration—the love in her eyes. 

If only he knew.

* * *

Valentine’s day was proving to be a particularly exhausting holiday. 

All morning, dwarves were barging into classes and running into people in corridors, delivering ridiculously cheesy poems. Of course, George had encountered far more dwarves than the average student, since he and Fred had sent about twenty of them to Lee, all jokes of course. The poor Gryffindor had been dodging dwarves since the moment he woke up, and Fred and George haven’t stopped laughing since.

It was lunch now, and the Great Hall was bustling with excited students sharing their valentine’s stories. Fred and George were in the middle of recounting their fifth valentine to Lee when a dwarf entered the hall and made a beeline for the Ravenclaw table. George watched in horror as he approached the end of the table where the quidditch team typically sat, and where right now, Ramona sat with the rest of her teammates. 

The dwarf wasted no time, pushing another Ravenclaw out of the way and jumping up on the table in front of Ramona. 

“I have a musical message to deliver to Ramona Avery,” he said. The dwarf cleared his throat and began to sing:

_ With this, I had some apprehension, _

_ For she clearly hates the attention. _

_ But I desire the whole world to see,  _

_ How much my Valentine means to me. _

A peal of hearty laughter broke out at the Ravenclaw table. Ramona was beet red with embarrassment, and her eyes began to scan the Hufflepuff table as she looked for the culprit. As soon as she locked eyes with Cedric, George knew the poor boy had bit off more than he could chew. Surely Ramona would be furious: she hated being the center of attention. But to George’s surprise, Ramona began laughing instead, the blush on her cheeks growing stronger. She blew an exaggerated kiss towards Diggory, and he matched her energy as he pretended to catch it. 

“C’mon, George. Let’s go see what that’s all about,” said Fred, and he led his brother over to the sea of blue. 

George was hesitant to speak to Ramona at this moment, but decided to go along with it. He hadn’t yet told Fred about his feelings for Ramona, and he certainly wasn’t about to do so in the middle of the Great Hall. 

“Well, well, well,” began Fred as he approached the chuckling Ravenclaws, “Looks like our Mona’s got herself a bit of an admirer,” 

“Don’t be daft, Fred,” George chimed in, playing along as best as he could, “Who’d be silly enough to fall for Mo?”

The table went silent just as George realized exactly what he’d said. His words had come out all wrong, their meaning now skewed. He’d been so nervous and frazzled from the whole valentine’s fiasco that his remark had been so much crueler than he’d intended. 

He looked down at the table of angry quidditch players. It was just then that George remembered how protective the Ravenclaw team was of their precious seeker, and now he was afraid he was going to get beat up by the vigilant athletes. 

“What are you playing at, Weasley?” Ramona spat, her once joyful expression now replaced with contempt. 

George struggled to explain himself, “Well I-, what I meant was-”

“Just because you didn’t get any valentines doesn’t mean you have to take your disappointment out on me,” she interrupted. 

George was very aware of all the eyes on them: best friends fighting was juicy entertainment for the uninvolved.

Furious, Ramona grabbed her belongings and began to leave, turning back to him only to say, “You should try being nicer. I heard girls like that,” 

And with that, she stormed out of the hall. Diggory quickly followed her, and George wanted to be sick thinking of Ramona being comforted by  _ him _ . Quickly, he made his way back to the Gryffindor table. He sat down, his head in his hands, and took a large, shaky breath. 

“What the hell, George?” Fred asked him when he’d returned, “What were you thinking?”

George couldn’t speak, choosing instead to shake his head. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew larger by the second. 

_ What the fuck have I done? _

* * *

Nothing was ever quite the same after Valentine’s day. Ramona kept to herself more often, either by herself in the Ravenclaw common room, or with Cedric in the library. There were a few times when the friend group would reunite, but it was always awkward. She missed George, and was ready to forgive him for his rude behavior. But every time she tried to talk to him, he would go quiet and ignore her. He wouldn’t even look her in the eye. 

Ramona wasn’t sure what she’d done to make him act like this. It felt like she was losing her best friend, and she had no idea what to do. So she sought out comfort in Cedric, allowing herself to be warmed by his embrace. She didn’t know what they were to each other; they had yet to decide on a label. Honestly, she’d rather they left their relationship unlabeled. Putting a name to it made it far too real for her. It felt like the day they put a label on it was the day she gave up on George, and she wasn’t prepared for that quite yet.

It was late one night in the Gryffindor dormitories. The twins were doing what they usually did: adamantly watching the Marauder's map, keeping an eye out for anything interesting. The map had been incredibly dull recently. Since students started getting petrified, no one dared walk around the castle after dark. 

Yet, there she was: Ramona. It was close to midnight, and she was sneaking around the corridors. What was she up to? Was she not concerned at all about getting caught? Or worse? George shuddered to think of Ramona lying in one of the hospital beds; her whole body paralyzed with fear. 

It was when Ramona snuck into a broom cupboard that his interest peaked. 

“I’m going to check on her,” George announced, slipping on his shoes. 

“What?” questioned Fred, “Why? She’s fine, George. I’m sure she has a perfectly good reason-”

“To what? Sneak around the castle?  _ Risk her life? _ I’m going, and that’s final,” George declared as he left the room. 

On the map, Fred watched his twin leave the common room just as Cedric Diggory joined Ramona in the broom cupboard. 

“Merlin George,” Fred groaned, “What have you done now?”

Meanwhile, in the broom cupboard, Cedric’s arms were wrapped around Ramona’s waist, and her hands were tangled in his hair. Their lips collided with a fiery passion, and she felt like she was floating on clouds. 

It was nice, being with Cedric. She’d never been this intimate with anyone before in her life, and there was an absolute thrill that came with stealing kisses in between classes and sneaking around after dark. They hadn’t gone any farther than a few late-night snogs, and that was perfectly fine with her. 

They’d managed to keep their relationship a secret so far; only Lissa and Cedric’s closest friends knew anything was going on. It had been Ramona’s idea. She wasn’t ready for George to know yet, and thankfully Cedric was willing to go along with whatever Ramona wanted. 

Ramona deepened the kiss, and Cedric responded by pulling her waist closer, their bodies now flush against each other. Whenever they kissed, she felt this pang of guilt, like she was betraying George, which was ridiculous, of course, as she owed him absolutely nothing. But she couldn’t help but let herself pretend, just for a moment, that it was George she was kissing instead. That is was George’s fingertips pressing into her hips; that it was his lips leaving bruises down her neck. 

It was like she spoke George into existence, because suddenly there he was: standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped to the floor. The couple broke apart instantly: like matching sides of a magnet, they flew to opposite sides of the closet. But it was too late. Their intruder had seen all. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Weasley?” Ramona managed to spit out. She was furious. 

George couldn’t reply: his mind was empty.

The trio sat in silence for a moment, although Ramona’s rage was enough to fill the quiet. 

“I should go,” Cedric finally spoke. Ramona just nodded, and flinched slightly when he pressed a goodnight kiss on her forehead. 

“So, do you want to explain why you’ve decided to interrupt us?” she asked, kicking her foot against the hard ground. 

The words couldn’t leave George’s mouth fast enough, “It’s nothing, it’s just...Well, Fred and I were looking at the map, and we saw you walking around, and I was worried so-”

“You were spying on me?” she said through gritted teeth. 

“No!” he exclaimed, “Well, I guess in a way, yes. But I didn’t mean to! It’s been so unsafe around here recently, with all those petrified students. I care about you, Mo. I just didn’t want you to get hurt,”

Ramona laughed in disbelief as the all too familiar feeling of anger began to bubble in her chest, “You insult me in front of my friends, you don’t speak to me for months, and you barge in on Ced and me. But it's fine! Because you  _ care _ about me. Am I getting that right?”

George couldn’t even get a word in before her tirade started again. Her fists we clenched firmly by her sides, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. 

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve your mistreatment, George. But I’m done. I’m done dealing with your immaturity and your cruelness. Do you hear me? I’M DONE!”

She was yelling now, and the candles around the corridor flickered wildly with her words. 

“And to think,” she said quietly, her arms now crossed in front of her chest, “To think I was  _ so close  _ to getting over you Weasley,”

He felt like his ears were deceiving him, “What?” 

She started to walk past him, and he reached out an arm to try and stop her, “Mo, please, talk to me,”

Forcefully, she pushed him aside. George stumbled a bit, but she didn’t seem to notice. She continued to run away, and he tried to follow her, but was startled as she spun around to face him once more. There were tears in her eyes. 

He’d never seen her cry before. 

“PISS OFF!” She screamed. And as her voice reverberated through the corridor, every candle went out. 

She used the darkness to her advantage, picking a random direction and running. She was crying openly now, and didn’t care who saw her. She wouldn’t even care if a prefect or a professor caught her: all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. 

Ramona had not been paying attention to her surroundings when she crashed into the young Gryffindor. Both girls fell to the ground, yelping in pain as their bodies contacted the stone floor. 

“Are you alright, Ramiona?” Hermione asked, very concerned about the older student. 

Ramona quickly wiped away her tears and helped Hermione up to her feet, “I’m fine. But what are you doing out so late? It’s not safe, you know,” 

The young girl’s eyes darted around in fear, and she clutched an ornate silver mirror in her hand like it was a lifeline. 

“I figured it out,” she whispered to Ramona, “The thing that’s been petrifying students. It’s a basilisk, I’m sure of it,” 

Ramona’s eyes widened. How quickly her night had changed, “A basilisk! Merlin, that’s not good at all. What can I do to help?”

“I need to get back to the Gryffindor common room. I have to tell Harry and Ron,” She explained, holding up the mirror, “I’ve been using this to get around,”

Ramona felt a strong need to protect this young woman, “I’ll come with you. It should be easier having two sets of eyes, right?” 

And with that, the two girls were off, unaware of the danger that lay ahead.

* * *

The match had barely started before it came to a crashing halt. 

“This match has been canceled,” boomed McGonagall through the megaphone. 

Yells and groans from the stands flooded the air as the players landed their brooms. It took the entire Gryffindor team to calm down Oliver Wood, who appeared to be throwing some sort of fit. George was disappointed: he’d been looking forward to the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor match. After all, it gave him an excellent excuse to hit Cedric Diggory with as many bludgers as he could. The students quieted as McGonagall approached them, looking more somber than usual. 

“Weasleys. Potter. You better come with me,” she commanded. 

Without objection, the three students followed her back to the castle. At some point, Ron joined them, and asked the twins what was going on, to which they just shrugged in reply. They were just as clueless as the younger Gryffindors. But George had a sinking feeling in his gut that worsened with every step he took. His mind was still grappling with his fight with Ramona the night before. What had she meant by “over him”? Did that mean that she…? 

_ No. _ He told himself. _ It’s not possible.  _ There’s no way Ramona had feelings for him _.  _

When they reached the doors of the hospital wing, the sinking feeling was practically unbearable. 

“This will be a bit of a shock,” McGonagall said, preparing them for whatever lay inside, “There has been another attack...another  _ double _ attack,”

And with that, the Professor opened the doors. The first thing George noticed was Hermione Granger, laying ever so still on a hospital bed. Harry and Ron ran straight to her. George watched as they struggled to believe their dear friend's condition. He felt sorry for their acquaintance, but he had yet to understand why they were called to the Hospital Wing.

“George,” Fred said, his voice breaking slightly, “It’s Ramona,” 

He turned his head and faced the horror in front of him. It was Ramona, alright: her body stiff and awkward as she laid on the hospital bed. 

George had never seen a petrified student before; seeing her now, he wished he never had. He didn't know how dreadful it was to see someone you cared about be so...lifeless. His heart ached in a way it never had before, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream or cry.

Lissa sat next to her hospital bed, tears dripping down from her cheeks and onto Ramona’s motionless body. 

“I found her this morning,” Lissa croaked between shaky breaths, “She wasn’t in the dormitory when I woke up, so I went looking for her. I just assumed she was off studying or something. I never thought…” 

Lissa broke down into sobs again, and Fred was quick to comfort her, enveloping the Ravenclaw into a massive hug. Lissa gladly accepted and buried her head in his chest, wailing into his quidditch jumper. 

George cautiously approached the bed. His heart was telling him to run out the door and pretend this never happened, but his head forced him to move forward. By the time he made it to her bed, his heart pounded so loudly he was sure everyone else could hear it. 

She was stiff, her body twisted in such an odd way that it required many pillows to prop her up. He reached out to touch her, but as soon as his hand made contact with her skin, he retracted. She was cold, unnaturally cold. Like she was made of stone. 

He’d seen her asleep once. It was a late-night studying for exams in the library. She’d fallen asleep at the table, her open textbook acting as a makeshift pillow. She’s peaceful when she sleeps, her face so relaxed and calm. George could swear she smiles in her sleep.

But right now, she looks nothing like she does when she’s asleep. Peaceful is the last word he would use to describe her current state. Her face is contorted with fear. Her eyes were wide and red, evidence of her tears from their argument. Looking at her made George hurt in an unfamiliar way. He knelt next to her and absentmindedly brushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

“I’m so sorry, Mo. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

The days went by slower after that. He was so used to hearing her voice during class and seeing her in the corridors. But now, all of Hogwarts seemed too quiet and empty. 

It was lunchtime, and George was trying his hardest not to glance at the empty spot at the Ravenclaw table where Ramona typically sat. Everyone was talking and laughing around him like nothing was wrong, like a piece of their group wasn’t lying in the Hospital Wing, wholly disconnected from the world around her. It made him sick. 

It’s been a week since Ramona had been petrified, but it was still the talk of the school. George could not avoid hearing her name everywhere he went. And right now, he heard it a few seats away from him at the Gryffindor table. 

“Poor Cedric. He’s seemed so mopey ever since it happened,” a third-year Gryffindor girl said. 

“He’ll get over it,” the other girl said, scooping more mashed potatoes on her plate, “It’s not like they were really dating. Ramona was just a fling,” 

The first girl chewed on her lip, “Maybe, but I’m sure he still cared about her,” 

“Merlin knows what Cedric sees in her,” said the second girl harshly, flipping her light hair behind her shoulder. “I mean of all the girls at Hogwarts: he goes after  _ Ramona Avery _ ? It’s just not fair. She’s such a bitch,”

“SHUT UP!” George yelled suddenly, standing up, so he towered over the third-years. The table went silent, and Fred stared up at his twin with a look of bewilderment. 

George walked over to the girls, his expression cold and frightening. His eyes were focused on the 

“You couldn’t hold a candle to Ramona,” he said, looking her up and down.

The blonde Gryffindor swallowed forcefully, and the color drained from her cheeks. 

George leaned in close, “Keep her name out of your mouth. Got it?” 

She nodded. Satisfied, George stormed out of the hall, not caring about all the eyes on him. 

Once out of sight, he started to break down, running his hands through his hair and breathing heavily. He hadn’t meant to explode like that, but he couldn’t help it. He was falling apart. 

“Blimey, George! What’s gotten into you?” Asked Fred as he rounded the corner, “I’ve never seen you act like that before,”

George leaned against a window, and Fred joined in. 

“I know what happened to Mona has been tough on you. It’s been tough on all of us. But mate, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on,” Fred pleaded. 

“It’s my fault,” George admitted as he hung his head low, “If I hadn’t barged in when I did, Ramona would have still been in that closet with Diggory when that thing got Hermione. It’s my fault, Freddie. I did this to her. And when she wakes up, she’s going to hate me for it,”

Fred let out a sigh as he rubbed his face, “Listen. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’ve got to get yourself together! Of course, it’s not your fault! George, it’s Mona. I know things have been rough between you two lately, but she could never hate you. Merlin, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting like you were in love with her or something,”

George sucked in air at his twin’s comment. What was the point with him knowing now? Indeed, he’d ruined his friendship with Ramona and any chance of ever being in a relationship with her. 

“Wait, George...are you?” Fred stared at his twin intently, “You and Mona! Are you serious? Oh, bloody hell! This is brilliant!” 

Fred was practically bouncing up and down at this point, “I can’t believe I never saw it!” 

“Keep it down, would you?” George pleaded, embarrassed. 

Fred inquired further, returning to the space next to his twin, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” 

“Because it doesn’t matter!” blurted George, “She doesn’t care about me like that! Nothing was ever going to happen between us, so there was no point in telling you,”

Fred chuckled, and George glared at him. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Fred assured his brother, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you,”

* * *

George has never run faster in his entire life. 

News of the newly revived petrified students spread through the castle like wildfire. It made its way to the Gryffindor common room, where Fred and George were busy playing a rowdy game of gobstones when a second-year barged in with the news.

“The mandrakes are ready!” they shrieked, “The students have started waking up!”

And with that, George broke out into a sprint as he made his way across the castle towards the Hospital Wing. Fred had been left in the dust.

George's heart was pounding so loud it was all he could hear as he entered the wing. And there she was: sitting on the side of her bed, at that moment looking more lively than she had in weeks. Her hair was a mess, her clothing was rumpled, but right then, she’d never looked more beautiful to him. 

“Ramona?” he called, his voice uneasy. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing him again.

Her head snapped up, and her face broke into a relieved grin. Her smile told him everything he needed to know: she forgave him. 

In a second, his arms were around her, holding her tighter than he ever had before. Her head fit so perfectly in the crook of his neck. Her thumb rubbed calming circles on his back, and in an instant, all of his fears and anxieties from the past weeks melted away. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, Mo,” he whispered.

She giggled and whispered back, “I promise.”

* * *

“I’m sorry about you and Cedric,” remarked George as they walked through the grounds. 

“It’s okay,” Ramona responded, “My heart wasn’t really in it anyway,” 

It's been two days since Ramona was revived, and George had barely left her side since. The Chamber of Secrets had been dealt with, and the students were safe once again. Now, all that was left to deal with was the unfinished business between him and Ramona. 

Dinner had just ended, and with it also ended Ramona and Cedric’s relationship. The Hufflepuff had stopped her outside of the Great Hall after the meal to chat and break things off. Ramona seemed to be handling it quite well.

Currently, George and Ramona were walking around the castle as the sun started to set. Fred had pulled away Roger, Lee, and Lissa with some ridiculous excuse, so now it was just the two of them left. There was still an air of awkwardness between them, so many words that needed to be said. 

“Mo?” he asked, his voice small and anxious. She hummed in acknowledgment. “That night when you were...you know, you said you were uh…’over me’? What did you mean?”

She swallowed hard and stared up at the sky. She wished she had the strength to look in her eyes, “You’ve always meant more to me than just a friend. But I thought-no I knew-that you didn’t feel the same way about me. So Cedric seemed like a plausible solution to my problem,” 

George studied her face, “And was it? Did it work?”

Ramona shook her head and chuckled, “No. I think it made it worse-”

Suddenly dizziness took over her body, and she began to stumble, her legs buckling underneath her. George reached out and caught her, holding all her weight in his arms. 

“Sorry, I guess I haven’t fully recovered quite yet,” Ramona groaned as she rubbed her temple. 

George helped her stand once again, but didn’t let go of his grasp on her, “It’s okay. You know I’ll always be here to catch you, right?”

On her face was a look of pure adoration, and it took the air out of his lungs. 

He whispered in her ear, his voice breathy and soft, “You mean more to me than anyone in this entire world, Mo. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I know, I’ve been an arsehole this year, and I’m so very sorry about that. But it’s just...I didn’t know how to tell you how I  _ really _ felt,” 

Their faces were so close together, their breath hot on each other's skin. Almost instinctively, her face began to reach for his, and he followed. But at the last second, before their lips met, Ramona pulled away. 

“We can’t do this,” she explained, nervously rubbing her hands together. 

The look on George’s face made her heart break into a million tiny pieces, “What do you mean? You...you don’t want to?”

“No, George, I really do,” she placed her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. His gaze softened under her comforting touch, “But not now,”

“Why?” George croaked out. He couldn’t tell if this conversation was going smoothly or horribly. 

Ramona reached up to fix his messy hair, “Because we leave in a few weeks, and then I don’t get to see you until September. I don’t want to start something now and then not see you again for months. It’s not fair, for either of us,” 

George sighed a breath of relief as she continued, “But I promise, as soon as we’re back here, we’ll pick up right where we left off. Deal?”

“Deal,” he quickly answered. 

He’d already waited four years. Surely he could wait a few more months. 


	5. the way things are

**Year Five**

* * *

The energy in the prefect carriage was uncomfortable and tense. Students anxiously glanced around, tugging at their pins and adjusting their robes. Nerves were typical of first-time prefects, but this year it was different: with an escaped convict on the loose, students were more scared than ever to leave the comfort of their homes and return to the castle. 

The summer had been anything but peaceful for Ramona. Andromeda and Ted had tightened the rein on their young daughter over the holiday. They told her it was because they were worried about her safety with Sirius Black on the loose. Ramona understood their concern: after all, Andromeda was his “disgraced” cousin, and she had every right to be afraid that Sirius would come after her family. But Ramona knew there was another reason for their worries. She’d overheard her parents whispering about it late one night, careful not to let Ramona hear the topic of their discussion. But it was no use: the walls of the Tonks household were thin. She listened to every word, and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. 

Because if one prisoner managed to escape, who’s to say more won’t follow?

“Hey, Avery!” called Malcolm from the other side of the carriage. Malcolm Travers was the best the fifth-year Slytherins had to offer, so he was made a prefect. Ramona dreaded having to spend any more time with him, and knew without a doubt she wouldn’t be able to make it through the year without hexing him at least once.

Thankfully, since her altercation with Malcolm during their third-year, he’d learned to keep his distance from Ramona; she barely had to deal with him at all during the previous school year. But as she sat across from him now, she could tell that Malcolm was itching to start a fight. 

“What, Malcolm,” she spat, not even looking him in the eye. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming family reunion,” he sneered, “It’s only a matter of time before mummy dearest breaks free, and then-”

“That’s quite enough. I think she gets it, Malcolm,” interrupted Cedric. Ramona flashed him an appreciative smile, and he nodded in response. It was no surprise that Cedric was chosen as a prefect. He was at the top of their class, and well-respected by all of Hufflepuff. 

Things had been a bit awkward between Ramona and Cedric after their break-up, but they soon learned that they made much better friends than romantic partners. They even exchanged a few letters over the summer, which Ramona greatly appreciated. 

During her summer of solitude, letters were Ramona’s greatest companions. Well, with the exception of Olive, although she found her conversations with her cat to be less stimulating than those with her friends. 

Lissa sent her the most letters. As always, their summer correspondences included a game of Wizard’s chess: with each letter including the sender’s next move. Lissa won, as always, and as much as Ramona hated to lose, she still loved the tradition. The rest of their letters’ contents varied greatly, but George was a common topic of conversation. Ramona thought it was about time she told her best friend about her crush with the upcoming possibility of a relationship on the horizon. Lissa was in disbelief at her friend’s confession, mostly puzzled about how she never noticed their affections for each other before. Lissa, too had exciting news: she had begun seeing a muggle girl named Jane over the summer, and apparently, their blossoming relationship was going swimmingly. 

With Roger, Ramona mostly spoke of quidditch. Their friendship contained more than the sport, however with Roger selected to be Ravenclaw’s next quidditch captain, there wasn’t much else on his mind. Together, with the help of Lissa, they developed new techniques and strategies for the upcoming season. Unfortunately, Ramona had not been able to practice much due to her parents’ stricter rules. She was so excited to return to Hogwarts so she could get back on her broom and once again feel at home in the sky. 

Lee was very interested in Ramona’s muggle music. So in their letters, Ramona offered as many recommendations as she could think of. It was nice, being able to share her love of music with someone outside of her family. In fact, one of her many goals for the next year was to get all of her friends more interested in music, particularly George. 

As always, the twins sent her plenty of letters. George sent more than Fred, for apparent reasons. She savored every letter that they wrote, and sought comfort in their tales of the ever chaotic Weasley clan. The family had been fortunate enough to visit Egypt during their holiday, but unfortunately for Ramona, that meant fewer letters than usual from her favorite redheads. 

Writing to George came so easily to her. Her thoughts flowed freely onto the paper, uninhibited by her usual, overly cautious grasp on her emotions. Over the summer, she opened up to him more than she ever had. She talked about her mother, and her constant fear that she will escape. She spoke about her dreams and plans for the future. But most importantly, she talked about how George made her feel, although she saved the most intimate thoughts to be shared in person. In return, George too opened up to Ramona. With her, he shared his dreams of opening up a joke shop and his desire to stand out against his overachieving family. 

When she wasn’t busy reading letters, or spending the precious few hours outside that Andromeda allowed practicing quidditch, Ramona passed the time studying. Her lessons with McGonagall were still her favorite part of her magical education. The private lessons were also proving to be very successful, as Ramona’s had grown exponentially in a very brief period of time. 

Because of Ramona’s progress, McGonagall was allowing her to partake in a complicated, dangerous, but thrilling kind of transfiguration. She was practically buzzing just thinking about it, and she couldn’t wait to tell her friends. 

“You alright, Ramona?” asked Marcus Turner, the other Ravenclaw prefect. Ramona didn’t know him very well, but he seemed like a nice enough person. 

She gave him a puzzled look, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem nervous, and you’re bouncing your leg so hard I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself,” he explained, gesturing to her shaking limb. 

Ramona quickly stopped the nervous habit, and thanked her counterpart with a grin. Of course, she was incredibly nervous. Not because of the daunting responsibilities of a prefect or the dangerous convict on the loose, but because a few carriages down was the person she’d been waiting to see for months. 

“Alright, everyone,” called Percy, “Let’s get started,”

Percy was the new Head Boy, and the position was undoubtedly going to his head. Ramona didn’t have an opinion of Percy, but Percy certainly had opinions about her. She’d already caught him glaring at her three times since she sat down. Everyone always has preconceived notions of who Ramona is based on her family and her parents. Typically, those notions go away once people get to know her, but not with Percy. He’s had the same cold attitude towards her since she arrived at Hogwarts years earlier.

The meeting itself was uneventful, and soon she was free of the stuffy prefect carriage and sprinting towards her desired destination. 

All heads turned as she opened the carriage door. As if rehearsed, her friends knelt on the ground, bowing as they chanted, “all hail Ramona the prefect.” 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ramona responded, clapping at their ridiculous charade, “But seriously, get up. Please,”

The friends returned to their seats. Fred, who was previously sitting next to his brother, sneakily moved to the other side of the carriage, purposely leaving a spot open for Ramona. The look on George’s face was adorable as she sat down beside him. She placed Olive’s carrier on the ground near her feet before finally getting a good look at the boy next to her. 

Somehow George had grown even taller since the last time she saw him. His hair was longer, too, brushing against his shoulders and draping into his eyes. 

He brushed his bangs aside, staring deep into her eyes, “Hi,”

“Hi,” she replied, letting out a small giggle.

“Hi,” Fred interrupted, fiddling with Olive’s carrier, “Can I?”

Ramona rolled her eyes, “Yes, Fred. You can let her out,”

Fred released the furry beast out of her enclosure. Olive took the opportunity to race around, jumping from passenger to passenger. She jumped on Fred’s lap, and before the feline could escape, he smothered her in a tight hug. Fred was obsessed with Olive, and played with her every chance he got. Ramona wondered who he liked more: her or her cat.

“So? How was the prefect meeting?” Lissa inquired. 

Ramona groaned loudly, “So incredibly boring. I swear, Percy could make a quidditch match seem dull,”

“Honestly, You don’t seem very excited about being a prefect,” noticed Roger. 

“It’s because I’m  _ not _ excited, Roger,” she explained, “I already have enough on my plate, and now I have to keep you all in line?”

The group laughed. It felt good to be with them again, like she’d been out of place all summer, and now she finally felt like herself again. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” assured George. 

“Actually, there was one interesting thing I learned from the meeting,” remembered Ramona, “Percy said that Hogwarts is increasing security this year. You know ‘in light of recent events,’” 

“That’s no fun,” pouted Fred. 

Ramona continued, “They’re adding extra prefect patrols, and some other kind of security, but he didn’t say what it was,”

Lissa raised an eyebrow, “All because of Sirius Black?”

Ramona nodded. It was bad enough that her summer was spent cooped up indoors; it felt like her school year was going to be precisely the same. 

“But why would Sirius Black come to Hogwarts?” asked George. Oh, George, sweet, naive George. 

“Well, Black does have some...unfinished business with a particular student,” said Roger, as delicately as he could. 

“Who?” Fred asked, still petting Olive, who was now happily purring.

“Oh, it's a good thing you two are so pretty,” teased Lissa, “We’re talking about Harry Potter. Dumbledore must think Black is headed to Hogwarts for a reunion. Why else would they beef up security?”

George had a burning question he needed to ask, and his patience had run out, “So, Mo: what’s the big news?”

Ramona smiled, “As you all know, McGonagall has been privately teaching me for the last two years,”

The friends nodded, eagerly listening. Ramona had mentioned she had a surprise in her letters to all of them, and her friends hadn’t stopped bugging her about it since. But she wanted to wait until they were together in person. 

“Well, this year, McGonagall has agreed to help me out with a very special project,”

“Which is?” begged Lissa. 

She took a deep breath, “I am going to become an animagus,”

There was a beat of silence before her friends burst into cheers. This was a huge deal, as amimagi were exceedingly rare. It took an incredibly powerful witch or wizard to attempt the process, and an exceptionally lucky one to be successful. 

George hugged her tightly. “This is incredible, Mo,” he congratulated. 

“I was going to wait and tell all of you once the process was complete, but it’s not going to be hard to keep it a secret,” revealed Ramona as she pulled away from the hug, “I need to keep a mandrake leaf in my mouth. For a month. I figured that would be pretty difficult to hide,” 

“Starting when?” George asked.

“Tonight, right after the feast,” she answered, “I won’t be able to talk. Or eat. Or sleep, really. But it's going to be so worth it!”

“Do you have to start so soon? Can’t you wait, at least for a few days?” questioned George, trying not to sound desperate. 

Ramona shook her head, “No. I need to get it done before the quidditch season starts. I’d rather not be trying to catch a snitch and trying to keep a leaf in my mouth at the same time,” 

“I, for one, appreciate the timing,” reassured Roger, “I need our star seeker focused on the pitch,”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Ramona jokingly responded, saluting the Ravenclaw. 

Ramona was so excited. George wished he could be just as excited for her, but he was worried, not to mention frustrated. He’d been waiting all summer to figure things out with Ramona, and now he would have to wait another month. And then there was the issue of danger: George knew that becoming an animagus was a risky process, and although he knew Ramona was more than capable witch, he still worried that she wouldn’t make it out in one piece. 

But there was no use getting into that now. Ramona’s mind was made up: she was going to do this, and there was no stopping or slowing her down. Instead, George smiled and supported her, and assured himself that waiting one more month was no big deal. 

“What animal do you think you’ll be?”

Ramona was stumped by Fred’s question, “Merlin, who knows. But I pray it’s something cool,” 

“Oh no,” exclaimed Lissa, “What if you're a fish!”

“A fish?”

“I mean, sure, you’d be able to breathe underwater, but on land, you’d just flop around,” Lissa described as she used her hands to mimic a flopping fish. 

Once again, the carriage broke out into laughter. They settled into their routine: debating about quidditch and indulging in sweet treats from the trolley. Ramona leaned against George, their hands intertwined, hidden from the other passengers. A little moment of intimacy that was just for them. 

And that’s how they stayed until the train suddenly slowed to a halt. 

“We’re not there? Are we?” George asked, his face pressed against the window as he tried to see through the pouring rain. 

“There’s no way,” Roger replied, joining George at the window, “We have another hour left, at least,”

Suddenly, the train plunged into darkness as every lantern aboard extinguished. Six wands filled the small carriage with light, the white hue of the lumos charms illuminating the fifth-year students’ frightened faces. Ramona felt the air grow cold, her hot breath visible in the air. She shivered, and George wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. 

“Maybe we broke down,” suggested Fred, his voice wavering. 

But the air was thick with anxiety, and Ramona couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. The windows were now covered in a thin sheet of frost. She felt Olive wrap around her feet, something only the feline did when she was scared. 

The group watched in horror as a cloaked figure appeared in the hallway. It was not human, but humanoid; its hands thin and skeletal. Where there should be legs, there was nothing more than tattered fabric, and where a face should be was nothing but darkness. 

Ramona could hear Olive hiss, but she did not move. No one did as the figure drifted past the window. They sat there, unmoving, listening only to the sounds of pounding hearts and rain until the lights finally returned. In unison, the group sighed in relief; the danger had passed, and everything was back to normal. 

“So,” Ramona began, cutting the tension, “How was Egypt?”


	6. communication issues

**Year Five**

* * *

Ramona was so excited to become an animagus. She spent most of her summer researching the process, and her parents grew tired of hearing her explain the details over and over again. Since the moment McGonagall first mentioned animagi, it had become Ramona’s sole focus. Undertaking the animagus transformation was the ultimate challenge, and she was determined to prove her abilities. However, at the moment, Ramona was trying her hardest not to give up on the process entirely.

Because mandrake leaves are  _ disgusting _ . 

Ramona should have known this. After all, mandrake juice was what revived her from her petrified state the year prior. The juice had been so foul she was convinced it was not the medicinal properties that awoke her, but the putrid taste instead. Ramona had hoped the leaves wouldn’t taste as gross, but alas, she was horribly wrong. 

McGonagall tells her that the taste will fade, that by the time the month is up, she’ll barely notice the leaf’s presence at all. But right now, it’s all Ramona can think about. The leaf covers her tongue completely, so there was no escaping the plant’s bitter punch. It was as if it leaked into her other senses, until all she could see, all she could hear, all she could feel, was this  _ stupid _ leaf. 

The leaf was thick, and its edges were sharp. Every time she tried to speak or swallow, it would scratch and cut the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood joined the bitter plant juice. Her cheeks stung non-stop, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was miserable. 

Sleep should have bought her some semblance of peace to her constant misery, but her nights were restless. Ramona was so worried about accidentally choking on the leaf in her sleep, that she frequently woke up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding so hard she felt nauseous. The few times she managed to stay asleep long enough to dream, she could swear even her nightly visions tasted of mandrake. 

Eating was complicated, although this was the one aspect of the process Ramona knew to expect. She was limited in what she could physically eat, so she found herself slowly sipping on a bowl of soup as the rest of the dining hall gorged on delicious looking meals. However, she had attained from Professor Sprout enough nutrient herbs to last her for the month so her body would not have to suffer any more than it already had to. However, her stomach was not used to its newfound emptiness, and so it made its presence known by loudly growling throughout the day, especially during classes.

Despite her torment, Ramona had to keep her suffering on the down-low. Outside of her closest friends, she was careful not to let anyone know what she was up to. It wasn’t that becoming an animagus was illegal, but it was hazardous, and McGonagall did not want the other students to get any ideas. So she and her Professor devised a cover-up that would rid others of suspicion. Her professors were told that, due to a hex gone wrong, Ramona had lost her voice, and that she would not be able to speak for at least a month. 

So there she was: exhausted, starving, and uncomfortable beyond belief with no way to communicate effectively. Ramona trudged through the hallways, mentally cursing at each person she passed. Why did they get to be so happy when she felt so miserable? 

It felt silly to complain; after all, Ramona chose to do this to herself. But she’d never felt weaker in her entire life. She was near the top of her class, one of the greatest seekers to ever grace the Ravenclaw team, and by far the most proficient dueler in her year. And yet, her greatest downfall was a fucking leaf. Pathetic.

She stomped up the stairs towards divination, her angry steps echoing through the tower. The last place she wanted to be was the tapestry covered, sickly perfumed classroom of Professor Trelawney. It was only their first divination class of the fall term, but she already knew she didn’t have the patience for the professor’s antics. On a typical day, she would take the steps two at a time, careful not to be late to class. But today, she took her time. She no longer cared if she was tardy. Being on time wouldn’t make her feel better. 

Ramona begrudgingly crossed the classroom to the table where George sat, plopping down onto one of the cushions. 

“Wow. This might be the first time I’ve ever beat you to a class, Mo,” George chuckled as she pulled out her books.

She threw a tired glare his way, before collapsing onto the table. Ramona let out a groan, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear her frustration. She felt like she was on the brink of crying, and through her concealed shaky breaths, she tried to fight the tears that threatened to spill. 

“You alright, Ramona?” called Lissa from one of the tables behind her. Usually, she and Lissa sat together for every class. But at the beginning of the year, George pleaded for Lissa to let him sit with Ramona. She agreed, of course (she wasn’t unreasonable), although she allowed George to beg for a bit, as she found it slightly pathetic but also adorable. Now, Lissa sat next to Roger. 

George loved sitting next to Ramona. Usually, he admired her from across a classroom, but now he got to see all her little quirks up close. Like how her lips moved as she silently read passages in the textbook. Or the way she taps her quill against her lips while she thinks, leaving a small black mark on her lower lip. 

“Merlin, could you keep it down? You sound like you’re dying over there,” quipped Fred from the other table behind Ramona, who had begun sitting with Lee after his twin “ditched him.” 

Ramona lifted her arm behind her without removing her head from the table and flashed an obscene gesture at the offending tables. She heard joking gasps of offense from her friends, who were now surely responding with rude gestures of their own. But Ramona didn’t care: her head was pounding now. Maybe it was stress, or perhaps dehydration (drinking was also proving very difficult). Regardless, it was one more thing to add to her already horrible day. 

“Seriously, Mo: are you okay?” George asked quietly, his soothing voice barely above a whisper. 

Ramona sat up straight. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on keeping the leaf in her mouth as she tried to speak to him. Despite her effort, the only thing that passed through her gritted teeth were indistinguishable mutterings—another failure. 

But an idea struck her. Ramona reached down in her bag and grabbed ink, quill, and her journal. She flipped through the wrinkly pages, and George saw glimpses of scribbles and drawings. He’d always wonder what content resided in her elusive journal, but considering her sullen mood, today was not the day to ask. 

She found a blank page and wrote her message, sliding the journal over to George’s side of the table. He leaned over and examined her scribbles. It had surprised George how messy Ramona’s handwriting was, considering how much of a perfectionist she is about the rest of her studies. She’s careful to write neatly on her important assignments, her letters clear, and her words evenly spaced. But on everything else, her handwriting was practically illegible, so it took George a minute to understand what her message said.

_ Shitty day. _

_ This leaf sucks.  _

_ My head hurts. _

Her message now delivered, Ramona’s head returned once again to the table. She shut her eyes tight, the darkness soothing the ache in her skull. George’s hand made its way to her back, lightly rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. He didn’t say anything: just tracing circles against her cloak. He was being so gentle, so careful that Ramona couldn’t help but soften under his touch: her shoulders relaxed, and her breathing steadied. But the moment was short-lived. 

“Students!” bellowed Trelawney. 

Ramona sat up, cringing at the obnoxious voice of the professor. She felt a pang of disappointment as George’s hand left her back. She wanted George to put it back; she longed to tell him that his touch was the only thing grounding her to the present moment. But she could barely speak, and had no idea how to ask for something so intimate. So instead, Ramona forced herself to pay attention to the lesson. 

“Today, my children, for the first lesson of the year, we will be practicing the art of cartomancy,” she announced, moving about the room with her typical dramatic flair, “I trust you all have brought your tarot cards?”

“Our what cards?” asked George. Ramona rolled her eyes, pulling out the pack from her bag. Curious, he snatched that from her hands and began rifling through the colorful cards. 

Trelawney held up a card bearing a skeleton riding a horse, “Now, can any of you tell me what the death card represents?” 

A few students raised their hands. Ramona scribbled the answer down in her journal. George leaned over and watched as she scribbled. 

_ Change or personal transformation.  _

Trelawney motioned to a Gryffindor sitting at the back of the room, “Yes, Mr. Cade,”

“It uh...represents death?”

“In a way, Mr. Cade. But let’s think broader. Mrs. Doshi?”

“Murder?”

The professor sighed, “I said, think broader, not narrower. Anyone else wish to guess?”

Ramona knew the answer, and it frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t just raise her hand and say it. Irked, she ferociously underlined her answer in the journal. 

_ Change or personal transformation.  _

“Mr. Weasley, is this another one of your jokes?” Trelawney questioned hesitantly. 

George’s hand was raised. Why was his hand raised? George never participated in class unless it was to disrupt the class with one of his and Fred’s mischievous ideas. Ramona had never seen him seriously answer a question before. 

“No, professor, it’s just, well, Ramona says the answer is...change or personal transformation,” George replied. 

She looked to Ramona and smiled, “Excellent, Miss Avery,” 

Ramona was so touched she didn’t know what to do, but scribbled a quick “thank you Georgie” in her journal so he would know his gesture was appreciated. 

“Anytime, Mo,” he whispered. 

The rest of the hour was spent doing tarot readings. Well, that's what they were supposed to be doing, but George took it upon himself to invent ridiculous backstories for each of the cards. Ramona much preferred his antics over taking the lessons seriously, so she indulged him. She laughed as much as she could, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent the damned leaf from escaping. 

“I’m sensing some interesting energy over here,” announced Professor Trelawney as she made her way to their table, “Miss Avery, draw a card please; I’d like to do a reading,”

Ramona shuffled the deck and handed the top card to her professor. The older woman smiled knowingly, and gently placed the card face up on the table. 

“The lovers. Hmm, very interesting indeed,” Trelawney sang as she waltzed away from their table. Their faces turned a bright red as Ramona snatched the card and examined it. She wasn’t the biggest believer in divination, but there was something comforting about the card in front of her—a reassurance of their future. 

The class ended shortly after that, and the friends were on to charms. Ramona felt lighter than she had before. George proved to be an effective distraction from her melancholy, not to mention a fantastic solution to her communication problem. 

George Weasley became her voice. Over the next few days, it became a habit for him to interpret the scribbles in her journal and spoke her thoughts aloud for teachers and students alike. Ramona hadn’t even asked him to continue. George just wanted to help her in any way he could. There was a moment when she realized just how much she trusted him, rare for Ramona. It took a lot for her to trust someone so completely, and George was one of a handful of people who had gained said trust. 

George had never participated in class so much in his life. He just wanted to see her happy again. Obviously, he knew it would take more than a few answered questions to see her smile once more, but it was a start. George could already tell she felt better, and he felt better, too, knowing that he made her current state a bit more tolerable. 

It was the first Friday of the term, and Ramona was looking forward to a weekend of relaxation, and if she was lucky, rest. Her and George had just left potions, and were meandering through the halls. They had no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company. 

They came across another group of students. Cedric Diggory was among the laughing crowd. He spotted Ramona and broke away slightly. 

“Ramona! How are you?” he asked eagerly. 

Typically, when another student spoke to Ramona, George was quick to explain her condition and engage in meaningless small talk on her behalf. But when Cedric approached, George stiffened and fell silent. 

Ramona, not wanting to seem rude, answered Cedric the best that she could. She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. A look of realization crossed his face. Cedric profusely apologized for forgetting about her condition, and rejoined his friends. 

Ramona dragged George away, shooting him a look that read, “explain yourself.” 

“There’s a lot I’m willing to do for you, Mo,” George began, glaring towards the Hufflepuff, “But I’m not talking to  _ him _ ,”


	7. silence

**Year Five**

* * *

One week. 

There was one week left before Ramona got her voice back, and George was counting down the seconds. 

He missed her, which was odd considering that during the last three weeks, George had spent more time with her than he ever had before. He sat next to her in every class and spent almost every evening with her in the library (Ramona would study, but George would spend the time planning pranks with Fred). But Ramona wasn’t back to herself yet. Granted, she was in better spirits than she had been the first week, but was still quite sullen and moody. 

During meals, he’d catch her pouting over at the Ravenclaw table, glaring at the bowl of soup that had become her only source of sustenance. It took her ages to finish the small cup. First, Ramona would grimace as she placed the spoonful in her mouth, and after a minute of immense focus and concentration, she’d finally swallow. The behavior repeated until the tiny bowl was empty, or until she ran out of time. It was painful to watch, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, afraid that if he looked away for just one second, something terrible would happen. 

Ramona would hate it if she knew how worried George was about her. She loathed being the center of attention, especially when people were concerned about her well being. He learned of this last year after Ramona’s petrification. Everyone fussed over her, convinced that something would go wrong or that she would drop dead at any moment. It came to a head when she practically exploded during dinner.

“I’m not a burden,” Ramona had yelled, “I can take care of myself,”

Of course, she could. George knew she could, but that didn’t mean he wanted her always to have to fend for herself. There was nothing weak about asking for help or needing support, but that was a lesson Ramona had yet to learn.

Despite his better judgment, George allowed himself to worry about her. This whole process was starting to wear on Ramona. Her mood had improved, but that was pretty much it. Eating was, obviously, still challenging for her, and according to Lissa, she still wasn’t sleeping through the night. Ramona’s lack of energy was evident from her puffy, dark under eyes, her sluggish movements, and from the fact that she fell asleep during History of Magic a few days prior. This itself was not odd behavior, as it was common for students to doze off during Professor Binns ramblings (that ghostly bastard was so dull he could make a quidditch match insufferably boring). But Ramona  _ never _ fell asleep during class. George almost didn’t wake her, knowing how badly she needed the rest, but also didn’t want to face her wrath if he didn’t. So he’d nudged her awake, and she spent the rest of the class forcing her eyelids to stay open. 

Despite her many attempts, Ramona was still unable to talk successfully. She managed to whisper on a few occasions, but her voice was so quiet that for someone to hear her, she’d have to speak directly in their ear. George didn’t mind this predicament, but it’s not like Ramona could whisper the answers in the ears of her professors. So George still acted as her voice, speaking aloud whatever she wrote down in her journal. 

But George’s voice, unfortunately, could not solve every problem. Right now, Ramona’s biggest issue was that she could not do magic with any sort of reliability. Sure, she could whisper a Lumos charm and sometimes a successful  _ scourgify _ , but she could not do any complex spells without her voice. This made classes like Charms incredibly challenging. Her lack of magic would have caused issues for Transfiguration as well, but McGonagall very kindly gave Ramona the month off from their private lessons, so at least she had one less class to fail. 

Her grades were beginning to slip for the first time in her life. Any classes that required her voice were now practically impossible, and the once-perfect student was now struggling to keep up. Perhaps a better person would consider it a humbling experience, a reminder never to take for granted the things we have. But Ramona did not want to be humbled; she wanted to be exceptional. Like she had been years ago when she first walked the halls of Hogwarts, Ramona was once again full of a fiery desire to prove herself. Although at this point, that desire was becoming more desperate with each passing day. 

That morning she had Arithmancy, which had gone smoothly. After all, she didn’t need to speak to perform calculations and fill out numerical charts. George wasn’t in Arithmancy with her, but Lissa was there in case she needed a voice. 

It was nice only being around Lissa. Ramona loved how much time she’d got to spend with George recently, especially after their falling out the year before, but she was starting to miss one on one time with her best friend. It would be something to get used to, spending less time with Lissa, especially when the month was up and Ramona and George started...well...whatever it was they were going to start. But she promised herself and her best friend that she would make time for Lissa. She was Ramona’s very first friend, and she would never leave her behind just because she had a crush. 

After Arithmancy was a double session of Potions. Double sessions were always so grueling. Especially potions, as Ramona hated the feeling of being trapped in that dark, musty dungeon. It didn’t help that Snape was particularly  _ himself _ this year: snapping at students for no reason and assigning oppressive amounts of coursework. It must have had something to do with him being skipped over yet again for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but she didn’t understand why he had to take it out on his students. Last week, he took five points from Gryffindor when George answered a question for Ramona, claiming that she was “very capable of speaking for herself.” And when Ramona displayed that she certainly could  _ not _ “speak for herself,” Snape took five points off Ravenclaw as well. 

He was an absolute git, but seeing as Ramona needed an “O” in the class to move onto Snape’s N.E.W.T. level course, she kept her thoughts to herself (not that she could vocalize them if she wanted to). 

Thankfully, George and Ramona successfully brewed the Draught of Peace, much to Snape’s dismay. She could tell he wanted to fail them so badly, but their potion was flawless, and so Snape growled an “outstanding” at them and whooshed away, his dark cloak trailing behind. 

As per usual, Snape was frustrated by the twins’ potion-making abilities. They were naturally gifted at the subject, and typically finished their potions much faster than the other students. In particular, George’s talent seemed almost innate, always knowing just when to add the ingredients and how quickly to stir. Ramona was convinced that if he kept up with the homework and essays, George would be at the top of the class instead of Lissa. But alas, the Weasley twins much preferred chaos to coursework, and had gained the reputation as bad students but humorous people. 

The sweethearts were staring down at the swirling liquid in the cauldron when George asked, “Why don’t you take some?”

Ramona raised a questioning eyebrow in response. 

“I was thinking, maybe the Draught of Peace could be, I don’t know, helpful for you?” He explained quietly so Snape couldn’t hear, “Just to relieve some of your stress, maybe even help you sleep?”

She knew George meant well; after all, she could practically hear his protective nature dripping off of his words. But if Ramona had her voice, she would explain to George that she didn’t want the artificial peace a draught would provide. She craved genuine peace, like what she felt when she’d looked in the Mirror of Erised all those years ago. Instead, she settled for a cross of her arms and a shake of her head. 

George got the message. Yet, when Ramona wasn’t looking, he conjured a small vial and scooped up some of the silvery liquid. He tucked the stolen good into his cloak pocket before anyone could see what he was up to, especially Ramona. He truly hoped she would never need to use the potion, but just in case, he wanted to have some. If this was how stressed she got during the first stage of the animagus process, Merlin knows what she’ll be like during the remaining steps. 

Once their station was clean and the fifth-years were dismissed, they were on to their final class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin. 

Ramona liked the new professor. He was kind and patient, and always tried to bring an element of fun into the regularly macabre subject. Remus Lupin was undoubtedly the only competent DADA professor she’d ever had. Surprising considering the importance of the subject in a world consistently on the brink of conflict. 

As she felt with all professors she admired, Ramona was determined to impress Lupin with her abilities. Thus far, her temporary voicelessness had not been an issue with the class. As always, they started with theory, writing essays, and discussing the material with the class. Ramona had excelled with the theory work, albeit with George’s assistance. But now, they were on to real-life applications and practical work: a silenced Ramona’s worst nightmare. 

“Alright, class! Remember: the key to successful hex-deflection is confidence!” reassured Professor Lupin, “If you believe you’ll be unsuccessful, then, of course, you’re deflection won’t work. Trust your abilities!”

The task ahead was simple: one partner casts a hex, and the other must deflect it. If successful, the hex will bounce right off the target and back to its caster. Simple in theory, unbelievably tricky in practice. 

George and Ramona, who had partnered up, were standing across the room from each other, wands drawn and ready to attack. George had graciously offered to go first. While she would never wish for him to be unsuccessful, Ramona hoped it would take him quite some time to master hex-deflection, therefore running out of class time for her turn. 

The first order of business was to find a hex that Ramona could cast and a hex gentle enough that George could take a few hits without risk of injury. After many unsuccessful hexes, Ramona found that she was able to cast  _ Titillando _ with sufficient reliability. Perhaps this exercise wouldn’t go as horribly as Ramona predicted. 

Amazingly, it only took George a few minutes to successfully deflect the incoming hexes. The timing was especially tricky, but he was able to figure it out. Although he did need to stop every few tries as repeated hits from Ramona’s tickling hex caused him to double over with laughter. But once he managed to successfully deflect, it was Ramona who was on the floor giggling. 

But alas, the dreaded time had come, and it was now Ramona’s turn. With her eyes closed, she took a few deep breaths, trying to center herself as she whispered the incantation under her breath.  _ Hexagonis Deflecto. Hexagonis Deflecto. Hexagonis Deflecto. _

When her eyes opened, she found that George left his spot and joined Ramona on her side of the classroom. His face was covered with concern. Although, to his credit, he tried his best to cover it with a friendly grin. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this, Mo,” George reminded her, “I’m sure Professor Lupin will understand,”

Ramona crossed her arms, a familiar gesture during her month of silence. Through clamped teeth, she said as loud as she was able, “I can do this,” 

George saw it: that fire behind her eyes. Always there, but brighter now; more determined. She’d set her mind to the task, and in Ramona’s world, that meant doing whatever it took to achieve her goal. He stepped away, returning to his original spot, his wand held level with her burning irises. 

George cast his hex, and Ramona tried her best to deflect it, but was unsuccessful. Her ears twitched wildly, and she thanked Merlin George chose a mild hex. He apologized, but Ramona ignored it, raising her wand again. 

But despite her determination, the hexes kept coming. The spell never seemed to leave her mouth correctly, and the repeated Twitchy-Ears hex was making it difficult for her to concentrate on anything else but the jittering on either side of her head. She pressed her hands against her ears, willing the sensation to stop. Suddenly it all became too much: the hex, her failure, the powerlessness of not having a voice. The habitual feeling of anger rose in her chest and filled her mind until it was all she could think about. Ramona grit her teeth and clutched her wand tighter, her rings pressing deeply into her fingers. 

Once again, George sent the hex her way, but Ramona didn’t even attempt to recite the spell. Instead, with an enraged cry and a manic wave of her wand, she deflected the hex and sent George stumbling into the bookshelf behind him. 

The classroom was silent, and every eye was on her. Lupin dismissed the rest of the class, but his gaze remained on the young Avery, who was currently so shocked she hadn’t moved an inch. Her eyes were wide, and her wand shook in her unsteady hand. At that moment, she resembled a deer in headlights than a witch.

But all it took was a groan from across the room to snap her out of the trance. 

Ramona raced over to George, helping him up. She quickly began examining him for injuries, the familiar anger now gone and replaced with guilt. 

George clasped both her hands in his, and stared deeply in her eyes, “I’m fine, Mo. I’m not hurt, okay?”

She nodded, but still mouthed, “I’m sorry,” as she felt awful. She didn’t know what came over her. Ramona had never felt power like that before, and honestly, it frightened her. 

“Is that the first time you’ve done non-verbal magic, Miss Avery?” asked Lupin. The students’ heads snapped towards his voice, suddenly aware that they were not alone. 

Ramona walked over to the professor, nodding in response. She nervously tugged at the sleeves of her jumper. 

“It’s quite impressive for a witch of your age, especially with a spell that difficult,” commented the professor as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a chocolate bar, snapping off a square and offering it to George. Never one to turn down food, George happily accepted the treat and popped it in his mouth, chewing contently. 

“I would offer you some chocolate, Ramona, but I have a suspicion that needs confirming first,” Lupin explained, “Could you please stick out your tongue for me?”   


She’d been caught. Ramona didn’t know what to do. McGonagall had not told her what to do in a situation like this, but judging by the firm look on Lupin’s face, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Begrudgingly, she stuck out her tongue, displaying the dark green leaf.

The professor chuckled warmly, as if recalling a fond memory. Certainly not the reaction Ramona was expecting. 

“You-you’re not mad?” stammered George. It was as if he read her mind.

Lupin gave George an all-knowing look, “Becoming an animagus is not illegal, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Avery is clearly a very competent witch. I’m sure she’s well aware of the dangers involved, aren’t you?”

His question garnered another nod from Ramona. 

“I’ve known many animagi in my lifetime,” began the professor, leaning against a desk. “It takes a fearless wizard to set down that path, and an even stronger one to complete it. I believe you have those qualities, Ramona,”

Ramona beamed a massive smile at her professor. This was the validation she was craving. w She couldn’t see, but George was smiling too. Except his grin was not directed towards his instructor, but towards the girl, he admired more than anything. 

And as they left the classroom, their hands intertwined and her smile still bright, George began to relax for the first time in weeks. 

Because Ramona was back. 


	8. breaking point

**Year Five**

* * *

Less than twenty-four hours remained in Ramona’s “mandrake month,” and the inevitability of his conversation with her was becoming too much for George to bear. 

He’d been so excited to share his feelings with her at the end of their fourth year; it was like a massive weight lifted off of his chest. You never expect to fall for your best friend, and the terrifying notion that his declaration may not be well received had hung heavy in his heart. But knowing that Ramona felt the same way about him was undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

But that was months ago, and as the weather grew colder and the ground was slowly covered in a mosaic of leaves, that unwelcome knot in his stomach returned. 

He and Fred may be twins, but their personalities were thoroughly different. Fred was the bolder of the pair; louder, rowdier, less worried about what others thought. Fred oozed genuine confidence, while George had gotten used to faking it. He was always a little bit unsure, more hesitant than his twin. And right now, George’s insecure tendencies were at full force. 

Did Ramona really feel the same way? Or had it been merely a temporary influx of admiration, caused by her then-recent near-death encounter with the basilisk? It didn’t help that she’d barely uttered a word since they arrived due to her animagus endeavor. And while it was illogical and ridiculous, a tiny part of George thought that the only reason Ramona had been so eager to start the transformation process was to buy her another month of peace and friendship before she rejected him for good. 

It was dinnertime, and the Gryffindors were being as loud and rowdy as ever. As usual, Fred and Lee were goofing off while Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson feigned disapproval from the seats beside them. In actuality, the two girls were smitten by the rambunctious Gryffindors. He knew from Fred’s side comments that he found Angelina to be quite fit, but George didn’t have the heart to tell Katie that Lee was not interested in her, or any girls for that matter. 

The chaos continued, but George’s attention drifted elsewhere. Across the sea of yellow Hufflepuff robes, he could see the end of the Ravenclaw table where the quidditch team resided. Ramona, like always, sat beside Roger and across from Lissa. She was in much better spirits today, undoubtedly due to her month of silence and suffering coming to a close. Currently, she was nodding along with whatever her friends were discussing, her bowl of soup emptied. 

It wasn’t long before Lissa and Ramona stood up, saying their goodbyes to the rest of the team before heading towards the door. They were halfway there before George abruptly followed, ignoring the surprised comments from his friends. The girls were fast walkers, and George had to jog to keep up with them. 

“Ramona!” he called when he finally caught up with them in the hallway. Their heads whipped around to face him, and Ramona displayed her signature smile, the one that made George’s heart skip a beat. 

“Can I have a minute, Mo?” he asked, sounding much more desperate than he intended to. 

Lissa was suspicious. With squinted eyes and a furrowed brow, she began to question George. However, the pleading look in his eyes was enough to convince her otherwise. Instead, she turned to her friend and said, “I’ll see you back in the common room, Ramona,” 

And then Ravenclaw walked away, casting one more confused glance behind her before disappearing around the corner. 

Finally alone, the awkward silence quickly became overwhelming. Ramona gazed up at him expectantly, but George’s moment of boldness was rapidly fading away. 

“Uhh, do you want to take a walk?” George offered, gesturing to the grounds. 

She nodded, and soon they found themselves outside. It was chilly, and the sun was just beginning to set. He wrapped his cloak tightly around him, a slight shiver creeping up his spine—all the more reason for George to get this over with quickly. 

“I won’t waste any more of your time,” he began, wringing his sweaty hands together and staring at the ground, “Tomorrow, things are going to change. But we don't know  _ how _ they'll change, and frankly, that scares the shit out of me because I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’d choose  _ me _ ,”

They’d stopped walking now. Ramona stood behind him, and although he could not see it, George could feel her gaze. But he was too afraid to look at her. So scared that if he did, the look on her face would confirm all of his worst fears. So instead, he leaned against a nearby tree and stared at the sun as it began to started to creep closer to the horizon.

The anxious knot in his stomach tightened, and the words started to spill out faster, “You could have your pick of any lad here. Merlin, Mo, you had Cedric  _ fucking _ Diggory wrapped around your finger, and you still want  _ me _ ?”

Ramona had moved closer, now standing by his side. He could feel her hand on his arm. From his peripheral vision, he knew she was staring up at him, but he did not meet her gaze. He focused on the setting sun, as if it was the only thing connecting him to this moment.

“You’re smart, and talented, and gorgeous,” his voice was barely above a whisper as he continued to pour out his heart, “I don’t think I could ever be enough for you, and I respect you too much to force a relationship just because I fancy you,” 

George could hear rustling beside him, and turned to see Ramona furiously scribbling in her journal. With a steady hand, he slowly pushed the notebook down, careful not to read any of the words she was trying so desperately to get out. Not that he would be able to read her words anyway; her frantic nature made her handwriting even messier than usual. He wanted a few more hours of blissful ignorance before getting his heart broken. It was then that his eyes finally met hers. They were wide, and full of an emotion George couldn’t quite place, but he knew it made his heart hurt.

“I wanted to give you an out, just in case,” He finished. George realized then that his hand was still atop hers on the journal, and he pulled it away quickly. 

He hadn’t quite noticed how close their faces had become. It was so similar to only a few months prior: Ramona, wrapped in his arms, the air heavy with their confessions. But this time, it was George who pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Ramona. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

George Weasley walked away, leaving a confused and frustrated Ramona Avery behind. 

She found herself incapable of moving, her body frozen as if his words had petrified her. George disappeared from her view, and she could do nothing but watch him walk away. 

She stormed towards the Ravenclaw tower, her angry steps echoing down the stone halls. He knew exactly what he was doing, choosing her last night of silence to spill out his guts like that. 

Unable to answer the riddle in her muted state, she pounded the bronze eagle knocker until the door swung open, a confused first-year standing on the other side. Ramona pushed past the young student and did not stop moving until she made it to her and Lissa’s room. 

The girls had been fortunate this year. They were assigned to one of the only double rooms in the tower, allowing them far more privacy than the other students who lived in suites of four. She assumed it had something to do with her becoming a prefect. The was the one good thing that came along with the overly shiny badge and neverending responsibilities.

Lissa was lying on her bed, finishing up an essay for Transfiguration, when Ramona barged in. Startled, she nearly spilled her ink all over the navy comforter, but caught it at the last second. 

“Bloody hell, Mona. You alright?” Lissa asked, screwing the cap on her inkwell.

Ramona replied by collapsing into her bed, her face buried into the pillow, and screamed. Her muffled cries spooked Olive, who was slumbering on her favorite armchair nearby. The feline jumped and clumsily fell off the chair and landed with a thud in a fuzzy gray heap on the wooden floor. 

“Yikes, I take it your talk with George didn’t go well,” her roommate commented hesitantly, trying to decipher the situation. 

Ramona sat up, swinging her feet over the side of the bed. She pulled off her leather boots with a huff, slamming them against the floor. As she began to undo her braids, Lissa sat next to her, a concerned yet hardy look on her face. 

“What did he say? I swear if that ginger bastard hurt you, I’ll kill him,” she asserted, her fists out in a fighting stance. 

Ramona couldn’t help but laugh at her best friend’s ridiculousness, but it did nothing to ease her frustrations. 

“I know you can’t tell me now, but as soon as that stupid leaf’s out of your mouth, I want to hear everything. Got it?”

Lissa quietly scoffed “ ugh, men” before she returned to her essay, laying back down on her bed in her preferred studying position. Now Ramona was left alone with her thoughts. 

Quickly she changed out of her robes, which had suddenly become uncomfortable and heavy on her body. Ramona was already finished with her homework, and didn’t have prefect duties, which left her the rest of the night to painstakingly muse on every word George said to her. 

Now clad in sleep shorts and one of Tonks’s old Weird Sisters t-shirts, She scooped up Olive and slid into the silky sheets of her bed. Olive gladly curled up against her side, purring contently. It was too early to sleep, so Ramona did what she always does when things become too much. Grabbing her music player and the nearest tape, she plopped onto the pillow, her loose hair wildly encircling her head. She cuddled Olive tightly and pressed play, and let the music flood into her brain. 

There were so many thoughts bouncing around inside of her brain, fighting to be the forefront of her rumination. Although she’d already suspected it as his behavior towards her was quite obvious, it was a comfort to know George still had feelings for her. She, too, had been anxious for their impending conversation, but his confession had baffled her. 

It was  _ her  _ who wasn’t good enough for him. He was so sweet and genuinely caring; that boy had nothing but pure love in his heart. But Ramona? She was crass and neurotic: a perfectionist who couldn’t emote honestly to save her life. After all, it took nearly dying for her to admit her feelings for George. She hid behind sarcasm and overly-cocky confidence. How could someone so open and passionate see anything in her?

The night progressed, and as her eyelids began to close, Ramona allowed the music to carry her to sleep. Drifting off, one thought played over and over again in her mind. 

_ What the fuck was he thinking? _

* * *

“Place the mandrake leaf in this vial, please, Miss Avery,” the professor commanded.

It was dinnertime, but instead of eating in the Great Hall with her friends, Ramona was alone in the Transfiguration classroom with Professor McGonagall. They were putting the final touches on her animagus potion. On the table in front of her was an arrangement of eclectic ingredients, including a moth’s chrysalis and a glass bottle full of dew, and in McGonagall’s outstretched hand was an ornate crystal vial. Ramona thought the vial was far too beautiful to house the disgusting leaf she’d carried in her mouth for a month. 

Regardless, Ramona slid the leaf out of her mouth and shoved it into the vial, ecstatic to be free of the putrid plant. A glass of water and one minty cleansing spell later, it was like the leaf had never been in her mouth in the first place. She felt like she could breathe properly for the first time in a month.

“Now, recite the incantation for me,” McGonagall asked as she combined the remaining ingredients into the vial, including a few of Ramona’s hairs. 

“ _ Amato Animo Animato Animagus _ ,” chanted Ramona. Usually, she savored her one on one sessions with McGonagall, but at the moment, all she wanted to do was run towards the Great Hall. 

McGonagall seemed immune to Ramona’s antsy behavior, and continued, “And remember, you must recite the spell every-”

“Sunrise and sunset until the next lightning storm. I’ve got it, professor,” Ramona interrupted. 

To her surprise, the Professor's face broke into a smile, and she enveloped her young protege into a hug. 

“I’m incredibly proud of you, Ramona. We have a long way to go, but you’ve done marvelously thus far.” McGonagall told her, pulling away from their embrace, “Now, go eat. You deserve it,”

Ramona thanked her and calmly exited the room, before breaking out into a sprint in the hallway. 

Thankfully, it was a Saturday, meaning Ramona hadn’t needed to face George until she got her voice back. She felt a little foolish hiding in her room all day, but any interaction between them would just be awkward until she could finally say what was on her mind.

Her pace slowed as she approached the entrance to the Great Hall. As cool and calm as she could be, she entered. With her arms crossed and her lips pursed, she scanned the room for her target. Spotting the familiar mop of messy red hair, Ramona started towards him, trying her hardest to ignore the pounding in her chest.

“GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY,” Ramona bellowed. 

Every face at the surrounding tables snapped to look at her. Except George, who’s head hung down in shame, like a child who knows he’s in trouble. 

“She speaks!” congratulated Lee. Over in the distance, Ramona could see Roger and Lissa struggle to get her attention, waving their arms frantically. But they could wait; it was George who deserved her undivided attention. 

“George,” she repeated firmly, her arms still crossed in the front of her chest, “A word?”

“Ooooooooooo, Georgie’s in trouble,” mocked Fred. Lee joined in, but a glare from George silenced them both. He looked across the table at Ramona, his face paperwhite, and his eyes wide with fear. Swallowing hard, George nodded and stood up from the table. 

Satisfied, Ramona turned on her heel and sauntered towards the doors, her heavy boots thumping against the ground. George followed, albeit hesitantly because Ramona seemed mad. No, not mad.  _ Furious _ . 

And when Ramona got like this, she was  _ terrifying _ . 

When George made it to the corridor, Ramona was waiting for him off to the side. She was gnawing on her lower lip, a telltale sign that she was upset. He approached her, a steady stream of apologies pouring from his mouth. 

“Listen, I know I made things really, uh, awkward yesterday. And I sorry that I-”

But George ran out of time to apologize, because it only took a moment for Ramona’s lips to collide against his. 

_ Ramona Avery was kissing him.  _

Her lips were soft and warm and tasted of cherry lip balm and, Merlin, George forgot how to breathe. He’d dreamt about this, about how it would feel, how  _ she _ would feel. But now that it was happening, he was so stunned he couldn’t move. It was like every ounce of insecurity and doubt melted away, replaced by the comforting warmth of affection.

It felt like an eternity passed before George got up the courage to place his hands on her cheeks. He leaned into the kiss, pressing deeper, and in response, she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

_ Ramona Avery was kissing George Weasley.  _

_ And George Weasley was kissing her back.  _

But that good old fashioned Ravenclaw curiosity wouldn’t let her mind rest. He was too good at this, Ramona thought. Surely she can’t be the first person he’s kissed. He’d never mentioned kissing anyone before, but then again, that wasn’t the sort of thing they talked about. 

She couldn’t help but compare the experience to her times with Cedric. After all, Diggory was the first person she’d ever kissed, but by no means was she  _ his _ first.

Cedric had plenty of experience by the time he found his way into Ramona’s life. Girls practically fought over a chance with the popular Hufflepuff. During their late-night snogging session, he’d been passionate, but messy and hungry. At the time, Ramona had enjoyed it. But now, she was convinced she’d only enjoyed it because she’d never experienced  _ this _ . 

George was even more passionate than Cedric had been, but in a gentle way. Not with ardent desire but with complete adoration. He was careful, never taking too much, but always giving enough. She didn’t need to hear his words to know of his affections. She could feel it. 

But he needed to hear her words, so Ramona pulled away before they could continue. While quite enjoyable, snogging George in the corridor had not been a part of her original plan. Yet when she saw him, she couldn’t control herself, and her heart took control of her body. At this point, Ramona felt that her actions spoke much louder than her words ever could, but it was important to her that the words be said. 

George opened his mouth to speak, but Ramona silenced him with her pointer finger.

“You had your chance yesterday,” she declared, the corner of her mouth upturned in a smirk. “It’s my turn now,”

He nodded as he tried to catch both his breath and his mind up with what just occurred. 

“Don’t you ever,  _ ever _ , doubt yourself again, Weasley,” Ramona began, absentmindedly tracing the side of his face with her fingers, “You’re brilliant, and hilarious. You’re open and honest in a way I’ve never been able to attain. You’re the best person I know,” 

George smiled in a way she’d never seen before: a smile reserved especially for her. She was quickly pulled into a hug, and Ramona was sure she’d never been held so securely in her entire life. 

“You were foolish enough to fall for me,” she teased, nuzzling up against his chest, “So I figured I would return the favor,” 

George squeezed her even tighter, as if to say, “I’ve got you. Thank you”. 

Slightly squeezing from his grasp, Ramona stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Within an instant, George was dragged back toward the Great Hall. He stared at her with a look of both confusion and amusement before she finally stopped pulling his arm.

“C’mon. I’ve barely eaten in a month,” Ramona huffed, “ _ I’m starving. _ ”


	9. unmistakable feeling

**Year Five**

* * *

“I don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up about,” Fred groaned, “It’s just Ramona. You’ve gone to Hogsmeade with her loads of times,”

“It’s different now,” Replied George as he tried to fix his hair for the millionth time. Today of all days, his hair decided to look ridiculous, and it frustrated him to no end. He never cared what his hair looked like before, but he was suddenly all too aware of how long it’d gotten. 

“Why? Cause she’s your  _ girlfriend _ ?” Fred teased, making kissy noises with his mouth. 

George chucked a pillow at his obnoxious twin, “She’s not my girlfriend, not yet, anyway,” 

It’d been a week since George and Ramona kissed for the first time. In a matter of minutes, he was supposed to be meeting at the door to the Ravenclaw common room. Today was the day of their first official date, and George was so nervous he felt sick. He was hoping a few extra minutes in his room, getting ready would make him feel better, but if anything, Fred’s constant teasing was making it worse.

“Let’s see,” Fred said, counting off on his fingers, “You spend every minute of the day with her, you hold hands while you walk through the corridors, and you two kiss every chance you get, which by the way, is disgusting. I’m pretty sure she’s your girlfriend,” 

“Not officially,” George corrected as he grabbed his coat, “So, how do I look?”

“Uh, human?”

“Thanks, Fred. Helpful as always,” George sighed as he walked out the door. He would need to get a move on; being late to the first date was definitely not how he wanted to start off their relationship. 

“Have fun! I’ll just be here! All by my lonesome since my brother  _ abandoned me _ !” Fred dramatically yelled from the room. 

“You’ll survive!” called George from over his shoulder. 

He jogged through the hallways, careful to dodge students in his rush. George’s heart pounded heavier as his feet brought him closer to the Ravenclaw tower. As nervous as he was, he was so excited to see her. It was strange, but even after seeing her at breakfast only a few hours prior, he already missed her. 

Ramona stood by the grand door to the Ravenclaw tower, and, as George always believed, she looked incredible. A black cabbie hat was perched atop her head, with her long dark braids flowing out below. She always wore a pair of black combat boots, but this time she chose a pair with heels, which would almost give her a height advantage. Leaning against the stone wall, her hands inside her green corduroy coat pockets, Ramona addressed the small group of first-years who surrounded her. 

“But you’re a prefect! Doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to help us?” whined one of the first-years. 

“I did help you!” Ramona responded, “I gave you a  _ hint _ !”

Another first-year stomped their foot, “But it was a stupid hint,”

George couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene; clearly, Ramona had found something to occupy herself as she waited for his arrival. 

“What’s going on here?” Asked George as he approached.

Her eyes lit up at the sound of his voice, and a giddy smile spread across her cheeks. Ramona wasted no time greeting him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. 

It’s bizarre how quickly things change. George couldn’t believe that he was allowed to kiss her. Only a week ago, they barely touched, but now they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. He never thought he’d be one to enjoy public displays of affection, but Ramona was just so intoxicating that he got swept up in the moment. 

“Hi,” she whispered, her lips still against his.

“Hi,” he whispered back, stealing another kiss. It was then he remembered that they were, in fact, not alone. “As fun as this is, I do believe we have company,”

The couple turned back to acknowledge the crowd of Ravenclaw first-years, whose jaws had dropped straight to the floor. 

“They’re having trouble with the riddle,” Ramona explained, her cheeks flushed red with a mix of excitement and embarrassment. She also wasn’t used to being so forward. 

George wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Oh, really. What’s today’s riddle then?”

“ _ What can fill a room but takes up no space _ ?” repeated a first year. 

“Ramona said ‘you can produce it with your wand,’ but we think that's a lousy hint,” a young Ravenclaw pouted. 

“I must say, Mo, it’s not the greatest hint,” George teased, playing with one of her dangly earrings. 

Her arms crossed in frustration, “Fine. But next time you get stuck on a riddle, you need to try and figure it out before asking an upperclassman. Okay?”

The group nodded, and Ramona took her place in front of the intimidating door. She rapped the knocker on the door once, and the bronze eagle opened its eyes. 

“ _ What can fill a room but takes up no space _ ?” it demanded. 

“ _ Light _ ,” she answered, and the door swung open with ease. A chorus of “Oohhh”s flowed from the mouths as the first years entered the tower, not so much of a “thanks” directed towards Ramona. 

“Ungrateful pricks,” she laughed. Nothing sounds as good as her laughter. 

“Why didn’t you just tell them the answer?” questioned George. 

“They need the practice. Besides, it just feels  _ so good _ to figure it out on your own, you know?” He nodded. Of course, George had no idea what that felt like, but was suddenly grateful to have been sorted into a house where he didn’t need to solve a puzzle just to access his belongings. Ravenclaws: bloody insane, but where would the world be without them?

George offered his hand, “Shall we?”

Her hand slid into his, and it fit perfectly, as if that’s where it was always meant to be. George didn’t say much as they journeyed towards Hogsmeade. He had plenty he could say to her, but there wasn’t a chance. Ramona was on fire today. 

Typically, the Avery heiress was a very succinct conversationalist. She chose her words wisely, speaking only when essential, and spent the rest of discussions observing others. But when she was comfortable and happy, worlds slipped from her mouth in a never-ending stream. George loved it when she was like this, so lively and passionate; unburdened and unfiltered. It was like she stuck her mind on a pedestal and allowed a fortunate few access to every crevice and ridge.

Only a handful of people got to see Ramona like this: Ted, Andromeda, Tonks, Lissa, and George. Her inner circle, her trusted few. It was an honor to be a part of it, and George never took it for granted. 

He could listen to her talk for hours. 

Currently, Ramona was recounting a recent letter she received from her sister. Tonks was in her last year of auror training, and Ramona had become obsessed with the process. She savored every letter Tonks sent her way, soaking up as much information about the auror training process as she possibly could.

“Apparently, Dora passed her Concealment and Disguise exam with flying colors, which surprised no one. And she didn’t even study! She just showed up, morphed to look like one of the examiners, and left with full marks! Brilliant! Though, she nearly failed the Stealth and Tracking portion, which again, isn’t surprising. Merlin, I’ve seen her trip over the air before,”

They were laughing and happy, existing in their own little world as they walked the path towards town. George felt invincible; nothing could ruin the way he felt when he was with her.

Her rambling continued, “I’m sure Concealment and Disguise will be no problem for me. After all, I’ll be a full-blown animagus by then. Or, I mean, I  _ hope _ I will,” 

“You will,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “If anyone can do it, you can Mo,”

She squeezed back, “I better be. I’m never sticking another one of those leaves in my mouth again,” Suddenly she shrieked, excitement taking over, shaking her head back and forth, “Oh George! I can’t wait to be an auror! I mean, I love it here at Hogwarts, but it will feel so good to be out in the real world, having a real purpose,”

He tensed up, unsure of what to say. Because George certainly  _ could _ wait for her to become an auror. The thought of her willingly putting herself in danger daily was horrifying to think about, even if it was over half a decade away. But as they arrived in Hogsmeade, his mind quickly moved on to other, happier thoughts. 

Zonko’s was their first stop. George needed to restock on some pranking supplies, and Ramona wanted to buy some dungbombs for Olive, who adored playing with them. But mostly, they just wanted to spend time joking around and trying out the new products.

As they pursued the shop, George’s earlier nerves had all vanished. He’d forgotten how easy it was to be around Ramona, how relaxed her presence made him feel. 

That’s the beauty of falling in love with your best friend: you already know everything there is to know about each other. There’s no awkward “getting to know you phase”; there are just years of built-up comfort, with the added benefit of a snog every once and awhile. Intimacy comes much easier when you already trust the other person with your whole heart. 

“What do you think?” George was snapped from his thoughts to find Ramona wearing a pair of false vampire fangs, complete with fake blood dripping from the pointy teeth. She was snarling her faux fangs, and held up her hands as if she had claws. In her defense, she was trying very hard to keep up the act, but her intimidating facade cracked when he heard a small giggle.

“Strangely attractive,” he admitted, shocking even himself with his honesty. Ramona cocked a curious eyebrow at him.

“Hmmph,” she hummed, spitting out the teeth and placing them back in their box, “Well then I’m definitely getting these,” 

And then she laughed and winked at him, and George melted into a puddle. 

They left Zonko’s shortly after that, with shopping bags filled to the brim. They could have spent all day in the joke shop, but Ramona had another important errand. 

Her current journal had seen much better days; the binding was cracking, and some of the pages were falling out. Ramona had relied on her precious diary more in the past month than she usually did, and now, in addition to the book’s tattered state, it was running out of blank pages. From her month of silence, the journal was chock-full of her and George’s conversations. While Ramona needed a replacement that had room for her daily musings, she planned on treasuring the old journal forever. In fact, on nights when sleep evaded her, she would leaf through the crinkly pages, re-reading the notes passed in confidence between friends, friends who had only recently become much more. 

The smell of paper flooded her senses as they stepped into the bookstore. Ramona loved it here, and in the past had spent hours perusing the shelves, her fingers running across the colorful spines, searching for the perfect book. But she didn’t want to waste George’s time, instead pulling him to the back corner where the journals were kept. 

With utter fascination, George watched as Ramona fingered through the journals. The ones she disliked were placed directly back on the shelf, but the ones she deemed acceptable were placed in a pile on the floor. Once the pile reached the height of her knee, she spread them out in front of her, scrutinizing her options. 

George kneeled to her level, getting a good look at her face. Deep in thought, she chewed on her thumb, her eyes flitting from cover to cover. 

“Choose one,” she finally said, her focused gaze meeting his eyes.

“What?” George squeaked. 

“I’m rather indecisive today; I can’t decide,” she explained, pushing the journals closer to him, “Pick one for me. Please?” 

He hesitated. What if he chose one that she hated? He didn’t want to disappoint her. Her journals meant so much to her; he didn’t want to ruin it. But then again, it wasn’t the journal itself that brought Ramona comfort; it was what she wrote inside. With that in mind, he began thumbing through the empty notebooks, feeling the paper’s texture. 

“This one,” George proclaimed, holding up a brown leather journal covered in an intricate flower pattern, “The pages in this one are thicker, so maybe you won’t have problems with your ink bleeding through like you did with your last one,” 

Ramona just stared at him, infatuation flooding her features. He’d chosen well. 

They left the bookstore, George’s arm around her waist, her head nestled against his shoulder. Ramona couldn’t remember ever feeling this loved before. Sure, she knew her parents loved her, but that was their job. As her caretakers, it was Ted and Andromeda’s responsibility to love her. But George didn’t have to love her, he chose to, and that’s what made it so special. 

“Oi! Look who we have here!” Shouted Malcolm Travers. So much for a peaceful moment. 

George’s grip around Ramona tightened as Malcolm’s posse approached them. They had planned on visiting The Three Broomsticks for a pint of butterbeer, but it seems that would have to wait. 

“What do you want, Travers?” George stammered. He wasn’t great at confrontation, but felt incredibly protective all of a sudden. 

“Aww, blood traitors in love,” sniggered Travers. “It’d be adorable if it wasn’t so  _ filthy _ ,” 

Ramona’s wand was out in an instant, “Piss off, or I’ll-”

Malcolm took a step closer, “Or you’ll what, Avery? Transfigure my hand into a paw again? I think you’ll have to do better than that to get rid of me this time,” 

If looks could kill, Malcolm Travers would be dead. 

“What would you prefer? Because I’ve gotten a lot better. I reckon I could transfigure you entirely now. Perhaps a rabbit. Or if you would prefer something inanimate, I’m sure I could manage a teaspoon,” She spat, her voice venomous. 

Malcolm hesitated, “You’re bluffing,” 

Before he could react, Ramona aimed her wand at his hat and chanted, “ _ facti serpens _ ,” 

In an instant, Malcolm Travers’s knit cap transformed into an angry, hissing snake. It slithered down the side of his face, and he screamed, flinging the serpent onto the ground. The group of frightened Slytherins ran off, and the snake slid away into a patch of nearby grass. 

Ramona collapsed onto George, a fit of laughter taking over her body. Passersby were staring now, trying to get a glimpse of the witch in his arms, the witch who just single-handedly scared off a gang of teens. But he didn’t care. All he could see was her. In a moment of bravery, he lifted her chin and planted a heavy kiss on her lips, much more passionate than their typical exchanges. He pulled away, and Ramona looked up at him, confused, but in the most delighted way. 

“What was that for?” she asked, her voice breathy. 

“Because, Mo,  _ you amaze me _ ,”


	10. enchantment

Year Five

* * *

“What is a fairy’s greatest threat?” George asked, reading from Ramona’s notes. 

Her answer was quick, “Bowtruckles: they eat fairy eggs. Next one.” She didn’t need to ask. Ramona knew she had the right answer. 

The evening chill was starting to set in, but they hadn’t noticed; the warming charm Ramona had placed around them was more than enough to keep them cozy and comfortable in the autumn winds. 

It had become their routine to spend the evenings studying in the clocktower courtyard. The library, where Ramona typically spent her busy nights, did not offer a good enough view of the sunset, which had become a necessity during her animagus process. The incantation must be said during every sunrise and sunset before the next thunderstorm, and how could she do that if the sun was hidden from her view? 

George was the one to suggest the courtyard, and it was the perfect solution indeed. The courtyard was in the optimal position to view the sun’s descent, and after dinner, it was empty and quiet, which was Ramona’s preferred atmosphere for studying. George had also offered to spend the sunrises with her, but Ramona was  _ not _ a morning person, and preferred to do her early incantations from the warm comfort of her four-poster bed. 

Most nights, the whole friend group could be found lounging in the courtyard, their cloaks used as picnic blankets. Often they would play games. In fact, the group was in the middle of an incredibly competitive gobstones tournament. Currently, Lee was in the lead, and would spend days boasting and gladly discussing his “superior strategy” to anyone who would listen.

Of course, studying was a frequent use of their courtyard time, much to the redheaded twins’ dismay. After all, the O.W.L.s were fast approaching, although the twins groaned about “useless” they thought the exams were as often as they could. Yet, despite the plethora of complaints from the identical Gryffindors, their Ravenclaw counter-parts had actually gotten them to study on many occasions. And now, Fred and George’s grades were better than they’d ever been, an unexpected yet lovely side effect of Ramona’s animagus adventure. 

Tonight, Ramona and George found themselves unaccompanied in their courtyard endeavor. However, they actually enjoyed the quiet alone time together. With days as busy as theirs, they rarely got to spend any time with only each other. 

In preparation for their upcoming Care of Magical Creatures exam, they were going over notes and quizzing each other. Well, they were going over  _ Ramona’s _ notes, as George had taken less than a page of notes since the class began. He was only there to play with the creatures, whereas Ramona was there to succeed with flying colors.

Ramona laid on her stomach, her head propped up in her hands. Her black boots absentmindedly kicked the air as she recited facts and statistics about the many creatures they encountered. George perused her notebook, asking her as many questions as he could think of from her scribbled notations. But no matter what the subject, or how tricky George thought he was being, she always got every answer right. Once again, he scoured the pages, but found nothing on them they hadn’t already discussed. 

“I’m afraid I’m out of questions,” ” sighed George as he closed the book.

He’d expected a response from her, perhaps an exclamation of disbelief or some sort of sarcastic comment. But she said nothing. Growing curious, George laid next to her, mimicking her position, and studied her face. Ramona was lost in thought, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes focused on nothing. 

A small gust of wind blew past, rustling her long locks. Recently released from their tight braids, Ramona’s hair was loose, messily flowing off her shoulders, full of kinks and waves from the french braids. George loved it when she wore her hair down, and without thinking, he grabbed a strand, running the soft hair through his fingers. 

“What’s on your mind, Mo?” he asked softly, his hand playing with another strand of hair.

“Nothing,” she mumbled in response, staring up into the evening sky. “It’s just so pretty, isn’t it?”

George leaned in close and whispered, “Yes, you are,” 

Ramona threw her head back and laughed, “Merlin, have you always been this cheesy?”

“Only for you,” he jokingly cooed. She elbowed him as her laughter continued. He smiled; making her laugh was his favorite thing to do. George placed a tender kiss on her temple, and she snuggled into his side. He could have stayed there forever, her nuzzled against him, the wind causing her hair to tickle his cheek. But the sun was setting. 

“Mo, love, I think it’s time for your spell,” he said, although her fluffy hair considerably muffled his voice. He placed another kiss against her scalp. Her hair smelled of oranges and honey, and he wanted to bury himself in the dark locks and never emerge again.

Ramona groaned: she too did not want to leave the comfort of their embrace. 

“Fine,” she exclaimed, “Hand me my wand, would you? It’s in my bag,”

She sat up, her legs crossed in front of her. Suddenly aware of how messy her hair had gotten, she tied it up into a ponytail. George didn’t need to see her looking absolutely insane. 

George fished her wand out from her bag, and studied it in his hand. He loved her wand, and much preferred it to his own. The dark wood was so sleek and elegant, so very  _ her _ . Tracing his finger against the etched runes and sigils, he could almost feel the magic coming off of it—a powerful wand for a powerful witch. 

“Uh, George? My wand?” 

“Oh, sorry,” he sputtered, passing the ebony wand to its owner. He tried not to look disappointed at the sight of her hair tied back; he longed to run his fingers through her mane again.

Ramona grasped her wand tightly, pointing it at her chest. It was a bizarre feeling, casting a spell on herself; she didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. With one last glance at the fiery sky and setting sun, she closed her eyes and whispered the familiar incantation, “ _ Amato, Animato, Animo, Animagus _ ,”

Usually, she felt a burst of magic, and then nothing, but tonight it was different. Because along with the lingering magic, she felt something else. For a moment, it was like she had two hearts, two distinctive heartbeats in her chest. It was uncomfortable, yet thrilling all at the same time.

The double heartbeat was a sign of progress, a sign that the process was nearly complete. But most importantly, it was a sign that Ramona was succeeding at her most challenging task yet.    


Her wand fell from her hand, the wood clattering against the stone. Instinctively, she grabbed at her chest, trying to feel the additional heartbeat once more. But alas, it was already gone. 

“Mona? Mona! Are you alright?”

George was panicked: one moment, she was completely fine, and the next, she appeared to be grabbing her chest in pain. Had the spell gone wrong? 

His hands sat firmly on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. His focus never left her eyelids, willing for them to open and reveal the emerald treasures beneath once more. 

“Mo?” 

“I’m okay,” Ramona finally responded. 

George let out a loud sigh of relief. She opened her eyes and saw color slowly return to his pale face. He leaned forward, his forehead against hers. In response, Ramona’s hand reached up and found its favorite spot on his cheek, her thumb rubbing circles against his cheekbone. Slowly, his demeanor calmed, and he melted against her touch.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Georgie,” 

He moved her hand from his cheek and placed a tender kiss upon her fingers, “What happened?” 

“I don’t really know,” she admitted, scooting closer to him, “It felt different this time,” 

“A good different?” he asked. 

She nodded and let out a relieved smile, “A  _ very _ good different,”

Like every night after her spell, Ramona moved into his lap, and George’s arms wrapped around her waist. They stayed quiet as the sun disappeared from view. It had become George’s favorite part of the day; the few quiet minutes they shared, wrapped in each other’s embrace. His chin sat atop her head, and once again his senses were flooded with the scent of her invigorating shampoo. 

“I’m going to miss this once the process is over,” Ramona admitted quietly, as if she did not want to disturb the lovely quiet that surrounded them. 

“We can still do this,” he promised, his chin resting against the top of her head. 

She smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course,” George said, moving his head to look down at her face, “Even after you become a fish,”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, I’m not going to become a fish!” Ramona yelped. 

Lissa had joked about Ramona animagus form being a fish on the Hogwarts Express, and shortly after that, it became a popular inside joke for the group of friends. They’d stare at Ramona every time fish was mentioned during Care of Magical Creatures, and tease her whenever fish was served for a meal (“Hey Mona, is this your cousin?”). She didn’t mind the jokes, but hoped that she wasn’t jinxing her chances. After all, going through all of this effort only to become a fish at the end would be a cruel joke from the universe. 

George turned her to face him, dramatically studying her features, “Perhaps a bass? Hmm, no. You’re much more of a mackerel to me,” 

Her jaw dropped, “George Weasley, did you just tell me I resemble a fish?”

George swallowed hard. His cheeks felt hot, and were surely turning a bright shade of red. 

Ramona was a difficult person to read. If needed, she could be in complete control of the emotions she portrayed. George knew it was a sort of survival instinct for her, something that must have originated from her youngest years. At that moment, her face was impossible to decipher. She could actually be upset, or she was just pulling his leg. But her face remained stoic and fierce. 

She moved closer, their faces only centimeters apart, a slight smirk on her lips, “You know, typically it's very rude to tell your girlfriend she looks like a fish,”

“Well, in my defense, I think mackerels are a very pretty kind of fish…” he trailed off, realization taking hold as a smile slowly formed across his flustered face. 

“What?” she asked forcefully, “What are you so happy about?”

Smugly, George leaned back and crossed his arms, “Because, Ramona Avery, you just called yourself my  _ girlfriend _ ,” 

Ramona’s hand quickly covered her mouth. Now it was her turn to go red in the face. 

She hadn’t meant to say it. They’d only been dating a couple of weeks, and hadn’t even gotten close to discussing the status of their relationship. The day she kissed him for the first time, Ramona had decided she wouldn’t label the relationship yet. She didn’t want to scare George off by being too forward, or ruin something they’d been building up to for four years by rushing into things. But here she was, throwing all of her carefully calculated plans out the window with a slip of her tongue.

“Um uh, okay. In my defense, I-I didn’t mean to,” Ramona could barely get a word out; she was so startled at her actions. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and she felt a bit like she was going to explode. 

George chuckled to himself. Was it wrong that he enjoyed seeing her so flustered?

He’d been waiting since the moment they first kissed to make things official. He knew his feelings for her were genuine, and was overly excited to be called “Ramona Avery’s boyfriend.” But he knew Ramona all too well: she would never want to rush into things so quickly. She enjoyed consistency, knowing exactly what’s coming for her at any time. And when she does have to make a big decision or change, she spends hours thinking through every detail. So he expected that she would need time to wade through the millions of thoughts that always occupied her head, and he didn’t mind waiting for her. He would never mind waiting for her. 

However, what he didn’t expect was for her just to blurt it out. It seemed like a very  _ him _ thing to do, but not Ramona. Never Ramona. 

So yes, maybe he was enjoying himself a bit too much. But it’s not every day that Ramona Avery is humbled, and he was more than happy to be present for it. 

“Ramona, did you call yourself my girlfriend?” he jested. 

She blushed a deeper shade of crimson, “Yes. Yes, I did,” 

“Good. Next question,” he leaned in close, their noses bumping together, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

“Very much so,” she giddily replied. 

George kissed her blushing cheek, “Well then it’s settled,” he proclaimed, kissing the other cheek, “You’re my girlfriend,” 

She smiled and kissed him softly, one hand delicately placed on his shoulder. His fingers ran through her loose hair, sending tingles down her back. She tried to kiss him deeper, but George pulled away.

He was having much too good of a time. He immensely enjoyed playing with her. 

“Well, I suppose that makes me your boyfriend then,” He smiled, teasing her as his lips lightly brushed hers. 

Ramona rolled her eyes, “Logically, yes, George, that is how it works,”

He feigned offense, “I'm Just making sure. You can never be too careful these days,”

“These days?” she huffed. 

George nodded, “Yes, these days, you know, with a murderous lunatic on the loose,”

Ramona was getting incredibly confused, “What does that have to do with-”

George shushed her, “You ask too many questions,  _ girlfriend _ ,” 

She crossed her arms, her demeanor suggesting frustration but her smile suggesting otherwise, “I wouldn’t need to ask so many questions if you started making sense,  _ boyfriend _ ,” 

“ _ Girlfriend _ ,” bantered George, saying the word as if it was some sort of mockery. 

“ _ Boyfriend _ ,” Ramoan mimicked back. 

“Girlfriend,” 

“Boyfriend”

“Girlfriend”

“Boyfriend,” 

“Fish,” 

“Oh, piss off!”


	11. safety and comfort

**Year Five**

* * *

“The dementors send their love, Potter!” yelled Draco towards the infamous Gryffindor. Ramona rolled her eyes, hoping the rival houses could keep their spats to a minimum so the rest of the school could enjoy the Halloween festivities.

“Could Malfoy take one night off from his bloody crusade?” groaned Roger, scooping more mashed potatoes on his plate. It baffled Ramona how much boys could eat. 

Lissa sing-songed, “I still think something is going on between them…”

“Between who?” asked Roger, his mouth full of potatoes.

“Harry and Draco,” Ramona responded, rolling her eyes. Lissa had an affection for conspiracy theories, in particular, those involving the two third-year arch enemies. Lissa had rambled on about her theories to Ramona during their late-night chats, and while she thought they were entertaining, she had to admit that her best friend might have missed the mark with this particular theory. 

“All I’m saying is, you can’t be  _ that _ obsessed with someone without there being something brewing underneath,” quipped Lissa as she spun around to try and get a look at the young Slytherin from across the hall, “Something...romantic perhaps,” 

“Hate to break it to you,” sighed Ramona, “But I don’t think your gaydar is exactly up to par,” 

Lissa’s jaw dropped open in offense. 

Ramona shrugged, “What? Third-year you were convinced I wasn’t straight, and now I have a boyfriend,” 

“I stand by my original observation,” Lissa proclaimed, stabbing a piece of broccoli and waving it around in time with her words for emphasis, “There is no way that you, Ramona Avery, are  _ completely straight _ ,”

“Whatever you say, Lis,” snickered Ramona. She caught a glimpse of the white-haired Slytherin and his sidekicks leaving the hall, and was reminded how grateful she was that her life went in the direction it did. 

“I can’t believe that if things had worked out differently, I would have to get married to that git,” she huffed under her breath. 

“Who?” Lissa asked, taking a large swig of pumpkin juice. 

“Malfoy,”

Lissa spit pumpkin juice all over the table. Ramona and Roger became drenched in the sugary liquid. 

“WHAT,” her Ravenclaw companions exclaimed at the same time. 

Ramona was shocked by their response, “Did I not tell you guys?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember you saying you were betrothed to Draco  _ bloody _ Malfoy,” remarked Roger as he attempted to clean up Lissa’s mess with his napkin. 

“I was  _ almost _ betrothed, big difference,” With a quick wave of her wand, Ramona cleaned the table and their robes of the pumpkin juice, although she could swear that the smell of pumpkin juice was still all over her. She couldn’t understand how people could drink such disgusting vegetable juice.

“I ran into Lucius Malfoy at Flourish and Blott’s last year. He, very rudely, let me know he was  _ so _ relieved that the marital contract between his son and me was never finalized. All I can say is, thank Merlin, my mum’s in Azkaban,” answered Ramona, grabbing another carrot with the fork and tossing it in her mouth. 

Lissa and Roger looked at each other, and then looked back at Ramona with a look of uncertainty. Ramona rarely mentioned her mother. Over the years, it had become a taboo topic. To hear Ramona speak so effortlessly about her was either a positive sign that she was healing from her childhood trauma, or that something concerning was going on. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you two,” Ramona teased, “It was a joke, relax,”

The friends laughed slightly, but an air of awkwardness still hung above them. 

It was Lissa who broke the silence, “I, for one, am delighted you aren’t getting hitched to Slytherin’s resident slime ball,” 

_ Me too _ , Ramona thought, as she caught George’s eye from the Gryffindor table,  _ so very glad. _

“Aren’t you and Malfoy already related?” Roger questioned. 

“I mean, legally he became my cousin when the Tonks’s adopted me,” clarified Ramona, “But biologically, I don’t think so,” 

This puzzled Lissa, “Really? I thought all you sacred twenty-eight stiff-necks were all related by this point,” 

“I thought so too, but according to Andromeda, the Avery’s had a habit of marrying pureblood foreigners. My father was French, and I remember my grandmother having a strong accent. I don’t know, Russian, maybe?” reminisced Ramona. 

She hadn’t thought about her grandparents in a long time. At this point, she couldn’t even remember their faces anymore. Not that they would remember her either, as dementors had stolen their souls long ago. Now Clifford and Yana Avery were nothing more than empty shells, doomed to wander around Azkaban until their physical bodies give out. She didn’t even know if they were still alive. 

“Well, at least we can rest easily knowing George isn’t your second cousin or something,” Chortled Roger. 

The feast was over shortly after that, and the Ravenclaws, stuffed beyond belief, slowly made their way out of the hall. A very smiley George Weasley, flocked by Fred and Lee, eagerly awaited Ramona’s arrival in the corridor. 

As soon she spotted George, his hands were around her waist, and her lips found themselves intertwined with his. They couldn’t have picked a worse spot to reunite, as their display of affection took place in the center of the doorway. Ramona could hear the whisper of students as they walked past them, eager to dodge the sappy couple and get back to their common rooms. But she had no sympathy, and continued to embrace her boyfriend.

“I missed you,” George proclaimed as he pulled away, his eyes meeting hers. 

She raised an eyebrow, “We were apart for thirty minutes,”

“It was an incredibly long thirty minutes,” he replied, kissing the tip of her nose. 

The Weasleys were well known for many reasons: for their flaming red hair, their flock of children, their courageous attitudes, and their blood traitorous ways. But Ramona thinks they ought to be known for their separation anxiety. 

Growing up, Ramona and Nymphadora were incredibly close. They spent almost every second of the day together, including the nights when they would sneak into each other’s rooms after a bad dream. But once Tonks went off to Hogwarts, Ramona had to learn how to be alone. It was an adjustment, but by the time she came to Hogwarts, Ramona had grown comfortable with solitude. 

But coming from a family of seven children meant that the Weasleys were rarely alone. They clung to each other like magnets, and sought out herds of friends to keep themselves company. George longed to be near Ramona at all times, and resembled that of a sad puppy when they had to separate. Despite her proclivity for alone time, Ramona didn’t mind George’s adhesive nature; in fact, she found it flattering in a weird way. Even on the days when she wanted the whole world to disappear, George was always the exception. 

“Hey, Lissa!” Fred called, striding over to the Ravenclaw with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I missed  _ you _ ,” 

He bent over and squished his lips into a pout. Lissa responded by punching his arm. 

“In your dreams, Weasel,” she replied, pushing him away, “Even if I did play for your team,” 

“How was Hogsmeade?” Ramona asked, still giggling at her friends’ absurd behaviors. 

George tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “It was fun. But I wish you could have come with,” 

“I’m sorry, I just really needed the day to relax, that’s all,” 

Ramona only put on real clothes about ten minutes before the feast started. She allowed herself to be lazy today, spending the day lounging in bed and getting ahead on homework. George had practically begged her to come with, but eventually relented when he saw the exhaustion in her eyes. Despite the mandrake leaf being a distant memory, Ramona could not remember the last time she had a good night’s sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the anxiety would return, and her mind would churn until the early hours of the morning.

“Don’t worry about it, Mo, I understand. Were you able to get some rest?” he gently asked, and let out a sigh of relief when Ramona nodded yes. “Good. Hey, I got you some butterscotch candies from Honeydukes,”

Her eyes lit up, and her hands began furiously searching his pockets. Ramona felt the same way about butterscotch candies as cats felt about catnip. George knew all about her obsession with the sugary treats, and was not at all surprised by her overly excited reaction. In fact, it was precisely what he’d been hoping for when he purchased the small sack of treats. 

George grabbed her wandering hands and held them firmly in his own, a hearty chuckle preceding his words, “I don’t have the candies on me. They’re in my room,” 

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Ramona asked, squeezing his hands excitedly before turning to her friends, “Lissa, Roger: I will meet you back at the common room,’ 

And with that, she pulled George towards the stairs, Lee and Fred trailing not far behind.

“Where are you going?” Roger yelled after them.

“I have candies to collect!” Ramona yelled in response. 

They took their time getting to the Gryffindor dormitories, laughing and joking the whole way there. Zonko’s had just released a new line of stink pellets, and Lee and Fred were currently testing them out on any poor first-year that happened to walk past. They were so happy and distracted that they didn’t notice the commotion outside of the Gryffindor portrait hole until they were surrounded by it. 

Almost every Gryffindor was standing on the stairs around the portrait, or at least, what was left of the portrait. Massive tears covered the art, and the painting’s subject was nowhere to be found. 

Percy Weasley walked past the group, more flustered than Ramona had ever seen him before. 

“Hey Perce!” called Fred over the hubbub, “What’s going on?” 

“You haven’t heard?” the elder Weasley asked impatiently, “Sirius Black is in the castle.”

The butterscotch candies would have to wait.

* * *

The Great Hall was quiet, almost uncomfortably quiet. Just hours ago, the hall had been full of laughing students celebrating the annual Halloween feast. Now, the hall’s usual rowdy atmosphere had been replaced by fear and worry. Every inch of the hard stone floor was covered in students, some sleeping soundly in the cozy purple sleeping bags, others sharing hushed conversations before Percy forced them to stay silent. 

From across the hall, Ramona could see her friends. Six sleeping bags lay close together, the five occupants fast asleep. The remaining sleeping bag was for Ramona, and she desperately wanted to crawl inside and pass out, but she had a job to do. A stupid  _ prefect _ job to do. 

When the professors corralled all of the students into the Great Hall and told them, under no circumstances were they allowed to leave, it became the responsibility of the prefects and head students to keep watch. And Ramona, eager as ever to get her duties out of the way, volunteered for the first watch shift. 

She was stationed at one of the entrances, her wand drawn and her eyes searching the dark passageway for any movement. She tried her hardest to focus on the space in front of her, but her eyes were tired, and frankly, she was unbelievably bored. There’s only so long you can stare at nothing before you start to lose your mind. 

It was a bit ridiculous that not a single adult had stayed with the students. What happens if Sirius Black decides to stop by? Was it really up to a handful of prefects to take down a mass murderer? The thought of a bloody confrontation made Ramona grip her wand tighter.

But as she stood there, waiting for something to happen, she thought of Andromeda. Ever since news of Black’s escape had graced the front page of The Daily Profit, her mother had grown distant. Ramona had tried to get her to talk about Sirius. After all, Andromeda was his cousin, and they had become close after both of their families disowned them. Yet her mother stayed silent, telling Ramona that she had nothing to say to her that the newspapers couldn’t. Ramona made a mental note to ask her mother again at Christmas; she deserved to know more about what was happening. 

A hand landed on Ramona’s shoulder, and she jumped. Spinning around, she held out her wand, only to learn that her “attacker” was just Cedric Diggory. 

“Woah, easy Ramona,” said the startled Hufflepuff prefect, his hands in the air, “I’m just here to take over your post,” 

Ashamed, she lowered her wand. “Sorry, I’m just a little on edge,” 

“It’s alright. We all are. Go get some sleep,” asserted Cedric, trading places with her. 

“Thanks, Ced,” Ramona replied, patting him on the shoulder. 

As quietly as she could, she crept over towards her sleeping friends. She slid her slippers off and crawled into the sleeping bag next to George. However, the sleeping bag was not as comfortable as it appeared, and Ramona quickly found herself tossing and turning against the hard floor.

Speaking as softly as possible, Ramona pointed her wand at the sleeping bag and muttered a quick cushioning charm. Instantly, it was like the ground below her disappeared and replaced by pure comfort. She let out a relaxed sigh. 

“Mind doing that for me, love?”

Ramona was sure George had been asleep when she walked over. He at least sounded half asleep, his voice deep and his words slurred. His hair was a mess, ginger strands sticking up in all directions, and although his head had turned to face her, his eyes remained firmly closed. 

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Ramona asked, leaning in close as not to wake others with her voice. 

George shook his head, “I haven’t been able to fall asleep. These bloody sleeping bags don’t do anything except look pretty. It’s like sleeping on a rock,” 

With a soft chuckle, Ramona performed the charm on his sleeping bag. George moaned as he sunk further into his pillow, comfort taking over his body. 

“Mmmmm, what a woman,” George mumbled. Ramona couldn’t help but giggle at her sleepy boyfriend.

She laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. It was enchanted to look like the night sky, much like the ceiling in the Ravenclaw common room. The twinkling of stars and the occasional comet should have relaxed her. But it didn’t. 

Her body was exhausted, but her mind was buzzing. Usually, she had Olive’s gentle purring lulling her to sleep, but her beloved cat was back in her dorm room. The closest she had now was Fred’s snores, which sounded more like the Hogwarts Express than a sleeping feline. 

How could everyone else sleep at a time like this? A psychotic murderer might be roaming through the halls, and people were treating this like a “fun sleepover.” It took nearly an hour for all of the students to quiet down once the lights went out. 

It all came to her at once: her fear of Sirius Black, which had been plaguing her mind since the early summer. But now, the thought of him being inside Hogwarts, plus the dementors that roamed the grounds left a sinking feeling in her gut every time they came near her, was enough to make her terrified. For the first time in her life, Ramona no longer feels safe at Hogwarts, and that thought frightened her. Andromeda and Ted always told her that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth. Had they lied? Or had the world changed that much already in her short lifetime?

And things just had to change this year of all years. With the upcoming O.W.L. exams and her prefect duties, not to mention her animagus transformation, Ramona was burning the candle at both ends. Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Her new relationship with George had managed to provide her with some relief, but the stress of life was too great. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep up her facade of control and confidence. She felt like she was on the verge of falling apart. 

And maybe it was because every time she saw a newspaper article about Sirius Black, or a wanted poster with his mugshot on it, she kept picturing her mother in his place. What would have happened if Evangeline Avery escaped instead of him? Would Hogwarts go to the same lengths to protect her as they were for Harry Potter? Or would she be left to fend for herself?

This is what happens whenever she can’t sleep: her mind raced with the thoughts she tried so hard to bury. 

A single tear slipped from her eye. She quickly wiped it away. Even in the dark, she was afraid someone would see her cry. 

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” George joked, although his voice was full of concern, “What’s wrong?”

As subtle as possible, George shimmied his sleeping bag closer to Ramona, until their sides were practically touching. In the moonlight, Ramona could just make out the features of his face. His eyes were open now, scanning her face for distress. Gently, his hand reached up and wiped away another tear she didn’t know she’d shed. 

“What’s bothering you?”

She had two options: lie to George, tell him that she was just tired, and hope he would drop the subject. But George was persistent, and he would see right through her. So Ramona took the second option. 

“George,” she answered, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid,”

He kissed her cheek and whispered against her skin, “It’s okay, I am too,”

George grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ramona rested her head against his shoulder. He nestled his head into her hair, and took a deep breath. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered, “I promise.”

She was still afraid; a kiss on the cheek wouldn’t solve that, but just the knowledge that George was also scared was enough reassurance that her mind seemed to finally calm. Her breathing steadied, and her eyes fluttered closed. George didn’t let himself drift off until he was sure she was asleep. 

But her hand remained firmly in his, and stayed that way until the sun came up. 


	12. metamorphosis

**Year Five**

* * *

The day started like any other. Ramona awoke to the ear-splitting ring of her alarm clock. It was charmed to ring a few minutes before sunrise, a gift from McGonagall to aid in her animagus process. Like always, she performed the incantation, feeling the double heartbeat, which got stronger every day. Once she was able to drag Lissa out of bed (a herculean feat in and of itself), she got dressed, gave Olive a goodbye squeeze, and headed downstairs.

Lissa and Roger joined her, very much still half asleep as they strolled into the Great Hall. Despite their early start, Lee and the Weasley twins had already beat them there. Like Roger and Lissa, Lee was still tired, his head resting in his hand as he nursed a steaming cup of tea. The twins, on the other hand, were as lively as ever. The Weasley twins were morning people, evident by their mouths, which were already moving at a mile a minute. 

Ignoring the assigned tables, the Ravenclaws joined the boys at the Gryffindor table. Romona slumped down next to George, his shoulder becoming her pillow. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” George chuckled, kissing her on the head, “Your spell go okay?”

She nodded. At the moment, speaking seemed like too much work, so instead, Ramona made grabby hands towards the pot of tea. She had a desperate desire for the caffeine a cup of breakfast tea would provide. 

George understood what she needed, and poured her a steaming cup, along with a splash of milk and two sugars, just how she liked it. He slid it towards her, and she accepted it gladly. A few sips later, and she already felt life return to her body. 

As it was every morning, the table in front of her was full of the most delicious smelling breakfast foods. Eggs multiple ways, bacon, sausage, numerous kinds of baked goods; every kind of breakfast food Ramona could dream of. She was in the mood for something sweet, so she helped herself to a large serving of porridge, mixing in loads of brown sugar and fresh berries. She didn’t really enjoy porridge, but she liked berries, and she loved brown sugar. Although she was tempted, she couldn’t just eat sugary berries, so the porridge would have to suffice as a middleman. 

As much as she hated early mornings, Ramona loved breakfast at Hogwarts. Not only was the food incredible, but sharing a meal with her friends brought her a special kind of joy. Their group was always one of the first to arrive, often before many of the professors, and for a moment each morning, it was only the sound of their voices echoing off the walls which filled the Great Hall. It made her feel so big and so small at the same time.

She was in the middle of another bite of porridge when McGonagall burst through the ornate doors, her face wrinkled in concern and panic. The professor made a beeline for Ramona, her green robes swishing dramatically as she approached the group of friends. 

“Miss Avery,” McGonagall commanded, not even acknowledging the table’s other occupants, “You must come with me at once,”

“I’m sorry, Professor, can’t it wait until after breakfast? I’ve barely gotten a few bites in,” 

McGonagall deepened her pout, “I’m afraid  _ lightning storms _ don’t care to wait for hungry students,” 

An approaching storm. Usually not a reason for panic. But for Ramona, this was the moment she’d been waiting for since placing the mandrake leaf in her mouth back in September. 

Today was most certainly not a typical day.

Today was the day she would officially become an animagus. 

Knowing there was no time to waste, Ramona downed the rest of her tea in one gulp and promptly followed McGonagall out of the Great Hall. Left behind were four perplexed students, and one who wished he didn’t know what was happening. 

“Mona’s going to complete her transformation,” explained George, the notion inducing a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d seen the panicked look in Ramona’s eyes as she walked away, the way her hands shook as she stood from the table. He needed to find her. Breakfast would have to wait. 

No one needed to say another word. In an instant, the students were racing across the Hall, trying to catch up with the transfiguration professor and their friend. George led the way, the rest of the group begging for him to slow down, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He found Ramona outside of McGonagall’s office, pacing back and forth as she chewed on her thumbnail. 

“Mo!” George called, and her head snapped up right away. Her face was pale, and her eyes were shiny with tears she was trying her hardest not to shed. 

She was beyond nervous. She was terrified. Ramona had managed to keep herself calm as she and McGonagall journeyed to her office. But as soon as the professor ducked into her office to grab the potion, Ramona’s anxiety bubbled to the surface, and she was finding it hard to breathe. 

Ramona knew this day was coming, but with the mandrake leaf and the stress that was the daily incantations, she’d barely thought about what it would be like to transform. What would it feel like? Would it hurt?  _ Would it work? _

And, oh Merlin, what if she was a fish. 

The frightened Ravenclaw sprinted to her boyfriend, seeking comfort in the warmth of his sweater and the sound of his beating heart. With her face nuzzled safely on his chest, she allowed a few tears to fall. George’s arms wrapped protectively around her: one cradling her head, the other securely around her waist. He would have stood there with her forever, but time was of the essence.

“Everything will be okay, Mo, I promise,” He comforted, gently rocking her back and forth in his arms, “You’ll be great,”

“What if I fail?” she asked, her voice soft. He’d never seen her so vulnerable before.

“Then, you fail. And then you try again and again until you succeed because that’s what you do, Ramona. You’ve never given up before, and I’ll be damned if you give up today. Got it?” George lifted her head and used his thumb to wipe away her tears.

The sound of panicked footsteps approached them. 

“Bloody hell, George, you can sure run fast,” panted Lee. The whole group was out of breath after trying, and failing to keep up with George. Lissa marched over to the couple, her stern expression indicating she meant business. 

“Are you two done having your moment?” inquired Lissa. George nodded, releasing his girlfriend, and the dark-skinned witch took that as her cue to forcefully pull Ramona into a hug. 

“Come back in one piece?,” Lissa whispered, her voice shaky “Please,”

Ramona squeezed her friend back, “I will,”

The best friends pulled apart, and Ramona caught a glimpse of Fred, Lee, and Roger: awkwardly standing a distance away, trying to decide how to approach her. They seemed just as terrified as she was. 

Opening her arms wide, she motioned for the boys to join the hugs, and they gladly did. Soon, a group hug between all six friends formed, with Ramona in the center. They held her tight, holding her as if she was about to disappear. 

“You’ll do great, Ramona,”

“We’re so proud of you,” 

“Can’t wait to see what kind of fish you’ll become,”

“Fuck off, Fred,”

“ _ Ahem _ ,”

In their hurried embrace, the group had forgotten all about the professor, who now stood beside their huddle. In her hand was the crystal vial that contained the mandrake lead, which after weeks of sitting in a dark cupboard, had turned into a dark ruby-red liquid. 

“It’s time, Miss Avery. Follow me,”

McGonagall expected only Ramona to follow, and let out an exhausted sigh when all six students followed instead. 

As the group traversed the hallways, Ramona noted that she’d never seen her professor move so quickly before. After all, Minerva McGonagall does not wait for you;  _ you _ wait for Minerva McGonagall. But now, the elder witch practically jogged through the castle. Ramona picked up her own pace, pulling George along as their hands were intertwined. He didn’t plan on letting her go until he absolutely had to. 

And so they made their way to the edge of the forest, the rain lightly soaking their cloaks. The storm had only started, yet the sky was a fearsome shade of gray. The late autumn air was freezing, and Ramona silently hoped her animagus form would have a thick fur coat. McGonagall handed the vial of red liquid to her mentee. 

“There is a clearing about one hundred yards that way. Go there,” the professor instructed, pointing her student in the correct direction, “When the first lightning bolt strikes, drink the potion and then say the incantation. And when you need to transform back, remember to visualize your human form in your mind,” 

“That’s if I transform in the first place,” Ramona said glumly. 

McGonagall gave her a small smile, “You will, my dear. I have the utmost faith in you,” 

And to the surprise of everyone, the professor enveloped Ramona in a hug. 

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall. For everything,” 

The professor pulled away, “It’s my pleasure,” she reassured, before turning to the stragglers in the group, “The rest of you must go about your ways.” 

“No!” yelled George, “We want to stay with her,” 

The rest of the group quipped in agreement. They’d come all this way together; surely they weren’t going to leave her now.

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible, Mr. Weasley. The first transformation of an animagus is a private matter. It can be a very intense and painful process-”

“All the more reason we should stay with her!” he loudly interrupted. 

“George, it’s alright,” Ramona affirmed, walking over to him, “This is something I need to do by myself,” 

He was ready to fight her, assure her that he wouldn’t dream of letting her do this alone, but then he saw her eyes. Despite the tears she shed only minutes prior, the fire behind her green irises had returned. The fire was her stubbornness, her strength, her determination. The fire meant she could do this. The fire meant he had no choice but to trust her. 

Once more, George hugged her tightly and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. He let her go, and despite his heart screaming at him to stop, George walked back towards the castle with the rest of his friends. He gave one last look at the girl he was leaving behind, but she was already gone; disappeared into the depths of the forest, to finish what was by far her most dangerous challenge yet. 

Today was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Ramona was freezing. By now, the rain had soaked every inch of her uniform, and her warming charm had worn off long ago. She considered casting another one, but didn’t want to risk moving her eyes from the stormy sky above her. 

It took an hour of waiting before the lightning arrived. Her stomach was growling, and Ramona started to resent McGonagall for interrupting her breakfast when they clearly had time to spare.

But then lightning struck, and it didn’t matter if she was cold and wet. All that mattered was the task at hand. 

She popped open the vial and, without hesitation, consumed its contents. The sickly sweet liquid was thick, and she could feel it running down her throat. Her stomach churned, but she kept her composure. 

_ It’s almost over _ , she told herself.  _ You’re almost done. _

A shaky hand brought the ebony wand to her chest, and for the last time, she shouted the incantation into the winds. 

“ _ Amato, Animato, Animo, Animagus _ ”

The double heartbeat returned, only now more forceful than it's ever been before. It took over her entire body, every inch of her skin pulsating with magic. It was overwhelming, yet exhilarating at the same time. To Ramona’s surprise, she loved the feeling. She felt so strong, so powerful, more in tune with her magic than ever before. 

But soon, the pounding grew more and more intense until every joint in her body throbbed, and every muscle spasmed. Only seconds before, she’d felt entirely in control, but now she could not stop her limbs from twitching. Ramona tried to fight through the pain but eventually collapsed in agony onto the clearing’s muddy ground. 

She screamed until her lungs burned. Her body flailed against the wet grass, and she could feel her bones shift under her skin. Her vision blurred, but she didn’t know if it was from the transformation or because of the hot tears that streamed from her eyes. Her lungs fought for air, but it was like there was none left for her to take. She felt like she was dying. Maybe she was. 

Regret hung heavy in her heart. Why did she do this to herself? Why had she allowed it to go this far? Ramona resented herself for not asking McGonagall more questions about the first transformation. If she’d known just how horrendous it was going to be, would she still have done it?

She was a moment away from blacking out, the pain having reached unbearable levels. She assumed that this is what failure felt like. She wanted to be tough, but her mind was frayed, and her body felt as if it was being destroyed from the inside out.

But then, a moment of clarity. An image, so vivid in her mind. 

The sun. The sky. The wind. 

_ Flight. _

* * *

Professor Flitwick was currently demonstrating the locomotion charm to his fifth-year students. Oohs and ahhs filled the classroom as the professor charmed books to float across the air, the covers flapping like wings. Everyone was thoroughly entertained by the lesson, all except for five students. Five students sitting much closer to the window than they usually would. 

The friends watched the pouring rain cascade down the glass panes, not taking their eyes away for a second. Who cared about class when Ramona was out there?

A crackling flash of light appeared in the distance, and George’s breath hitched in his throat. 

It was a horrible kind of suffering, not knowing what was happening—not knowing if she was okay. 

“She’ll be fine, right?” Lissa whispered to him. She was nervously bouncing her leg under the desk.

There was a long beat of silence before George shakily insisted, “She has to be,”

* * *

The storm mellowed after lunch, the only proof of its assistance being the soft ground and the drizzle that still hung in the air.

Ramona was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t attended any of her classes, and to make matters worse, McGonagall had canceled the afternoon Transfiguration lesson. 

The group was tired of waiting around for their friend to turn up, so they decided to take matters into their own hands. They scattered, searching all over the castle and its surrounding grounds for any sign of their missing companion. Lissa searched the Ravenclaw tower, Roger was searching the hospital wing, and Fred and Lee had offered to search the forest. George had offered to check the library.

But he made one stop on the way to the library: the clocktower courtyard. 

To George, this courtyard belonged to him and Ramona. This was their happy place, the place where he felt closest to her despite her absence.

He couldn’t even put into words how worried he was. In each minute that passed sent him deeper into a tailspin. He had to find her.

But the courtyard was empty.

With an unsatisfied sigh, he returned to the corridor. He started walking towards the library when he heard the fluttering of wings behind him. 

On the ground was a crow, shiny black feathers still damp from the rainstorm. It looked expectantly up at George.

“What do you want?” he huffed. Clearly, he’d lost his mind, as he was now talking to birds. 

The crow said nothing, of course, so George kept moving. But the curious bird followed him, its talons clicking against the stone. 

“I don’t have any food,” he told the bird, feeling silly again for talking to the damn thing.

He walked again, but the bird followed.

“Shoo,” he commanded, waving his hands at the creature.

The crow cawed and flapped its wings. George rolled his eyes and started walking once more. 

“That’s no way to greet your girlfriend,”

He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Slowly he turned, his eyes closed. There’s no way she was there? Unless….

His eyes opened, and his gaze landed on the spot where the crow once stood. But now in its place was his Ramona: her hair a mess, her cloaks coated in mud, but the largest smile he’d ever seen spread across her face. The kind that starts with the curve of lips and ends in the crinkle of eyes. 

George ran to Ramona, and with each step towards her, the day’s anxiety melted into joy. Arms around her hips, he hoisted her up and spun her around, their laughs filling the empty castle with pure unadulterated joy. 

“You did it!” he marveled loudly.

“George! Put me down!” She laughed, “I’m getting mud all over your clothes!”

“I don’t care! You did it! You’re alive! You’re okay!” 

His hands found the sides of her face, and his lips found her lips with frantic desperation. She reciprocated gladly, and her fingers tugged at his belt loops, pulling them closer. 

George broke away, a burning question on his mind, “Where were you? We’ve been looking for you.”

Ramona’s face lit up again, full of childlike wonder. She turned her head upwards, and pointed to the bright blue above their heads. 

“The sky, George. I was in the sky,”


	13. unexpected gift

Year Five

* * *

It was early Saturday morning when Ramona waltzed into the Great Hall with a pep in her step and a smirk on her lips. It had been a great few weeks. With her animagus transformation complete, she had much more time to focus on classes, and her marks were back to where they were before her mandrake month. Now that she didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn, and that there wasn’t as much on her mind, her sleep had improved, leaving her mind clear and focused. 

So focused, in fact, that the weekend previous, after a forty-five-minute standoff between her and opposing seeker Cedric Diggory, Ramona secured a triumphant victory against Hufflepuff for the Ravenclaw quidditch team. This meant that their next match was against Slytherin, and Ramona was looking forward to kicking the snakes’ collective arse. 

Of course, there was one hiccup. Ever since her first transformation, Ramona has experienced difficulties getting back into her animagus form. McGonagall tells her that it’s normal, that the lightning storm aids an animagus’s first transformation, and that learning to transform without that additional power easily takes time. Ramona had returned to her crow form through an intense meditation of sorts many times, but those attempts left her exhausted. Her unsuccessful efforts leave her discouraged, but then she remembers soaring through the air, the wind rustling through her feathers as her wings brought her higher and higher. The burning desire to be one with the sky again kept her going, kept her pushing forward.

Fred and George were enjoying breakfast when Ramona arrived. She plopped down next to George, giving him a quick peck on the lips and stealing a buttery slice of toast from his plate.

“Morning Georgie,” she sang between bites of toast.

“Morning, love,” he cooed in reply, kissing her on the temple. 

“What am I? Chopped bat spleen?”

Ramona rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the twin across from her, “Good morning Fred,”

Fred gave her a smug smile, “Good morning, Mona. See? How hard was that?”

George ignored his twin, “So? How did your lesson with McGonagall go last night?”

“Really well!” she exclaimed as she scooped various breakfast foods on her plate, “It only took me a few minutes to transform. Not perfect, but I’m getting there,” 

“I’m so jealous that George got to see your animagus form and the rest of us didn’t,” pouted Fred.

“I’ll show you soon, I promise. I just need to get better at it first, that’s all,” she explained as George handed her a steaming cup of tea, which she happily accepted. 

Fred sighed dramatically, “Well, until I see it with my own eyes, I’ll just have to assume you’re a fish,”

The Ravenclaw groaned, seeking solace in a sip of breakfast tea. Ramona had hoped the fish jokes would cease after her transformation was complete, but alas, it seemed they were here to stay.

“Fred, I already told you, she’s a crow,”

“I  _ know _ what you told me, dear brother,” jested Fred, “But how am I supposed to know you weren’t lying? After all, you’re not exactly a neutral source, now are you, Georgie?”

Getting each other riled up was one of the Weasley twins' favorite pastimes. 

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” demanded George.

Fred was smirking so hard it must have been painful, “Nothing neutral about snogging each other in broom closets, is there?,”

The couple turned beet red. “Alright, that’s enough!” Ramona bellowed. 

Ramona was always the one to put a stop to their bickering when it inevitably goes too far. However, she is usually not so personally involved in their topics of choice. 

“For your information, Freddie: we do not snog in broom closets,” Ramona stated adamantly, “But in the future, mind your business?” She gave a firm look to the brothers before continuing, “Now, there’s something I actually wanted to discuss with you both,”

“What is it, Mona?” Fred said quietly, still a bit ashamed after being told off by Ramona.

“I think we should give Harry the map.”

“Why?” George asked. Ramona could tell he was trying to appear open-minded at her suggestion, which she appreciated. Fred, on the other hand, was staring at her as if she’d suddenly gone mad.

“We’ve barely touched it since last year. Plus, we have the whole castle memorized by now. He needs it more than we do,”

“But it’s  _ our _ map?” cried Fred.

“Not really,” remarked George, “I mean, we technically stole it,”

Ramona raised an eyebrow, “Technically?”

“Okay, yeah, we stole it,”   


Fred was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the whole idea, “What is Potter going to do with the Marauder's map?”   


“Sneak into Hogsmeade, for starters,” Ramona offered, “Currently, he’s not allowed to. With the map, he’d be able to use the tunnel to Honeydukes,” 

“What if, instead, we just showed him the tunnel?” suggested George, “Then Potter gets to visit Hogsmeade, and  _ we _ get to keep the map,”

Ramona chewed on her bottom lip, “Yeah but, I just think it would be safer if he had the map,” 

“Safer?”

The twins looked at her in total confusion. They only saw the map as a means to bettering their pranks, but she saw its possibilities outside of mischief. Ramona was hesitant to continue. She didn’t want to bring it up, but felt passionate enough about her cause to set aside her feelings. 

“Have you seen Harry lately? He’s terrified,” she began, avoiding eye contact by staring at her half-eaten meal, “He’s so on edge too. Yesterday, someone ran into a suit of armor in the corridor, and I swear he leapt a foot in the air he was so startled,”

She searched under the table and found George’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “If I was in his shoes, and my mother escaped-”

“Mo, your mother is not going to escape,” interrupted George as he squeezed her hand back.

“Just listen, okay?,” she begged George, “ _ If _ my mother escaped Azkaban, I would want every ounce of safety I could find. And I think the map could do that for Harry. He’ll know for sure if Black is ever in the castle. He can sleep easier at night knowing he was safe,” 

There was a long bit of silence. Ramona anxiously played with the food on her plate, using her fork to move around her scrambled eggs. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to bring up her mother; she knew it would make things awkward, but Ramona also knew it was the only way to get them to truly understand why this was so important to her. 

“Okay,” George said, breaking the quiet, “Let’s do it,” 

“Freddie?”

He looked at them both. There was still a hint of fight left in him, but eventually conceded. 

“Fine. Sure, why not. Let’s give Potter the map,”

* * *

They set up shop in an empty classroom; the map completely unfurled on a table in front of them. Laid out, it surprised Ramona just how large the map actually was. During their late-night adventures, they only ever used a small portion at a time. Seeing the Marauder's map in its full glory made Ramona nostalgic, but she still stood by her decision to give Harry the map. 

“Here it comes!” exclaimed Fred, pointing to the map, when a banner reading “Harry Potter” was quickly nearing their location. 

“I’ll get him; you two stay here,” she commanded as she made her way towards the classroom’s door. 

He was nearly past the one-eyed witch statue when she spotted him.

“Oi! Potter!” she called.

He jumped back, clutching his heart in surprise, “Merlin, Ramona. You startled me,” 

“Sorry, Harry, not my intention,” 

“Shouldn’t you be at Hogsmeade? You’re sure dressed for it,” Harry asked curiously. 

And she was. Her olive green jacket and her black knit cap, along with the Ravenclaw scarf in her hand, were obvious signs she had plans outside the castle. The friend group was heading for one final butterbeer before the Christmas holiday. Lissa, Lee, and Roger were already on their way to the village, but Ramona and the twins promised to meet them after taking care of some “business.” 

“I’m heading to Hogsmeade soon, just had some last-minute...prefect stuff to attend to. Speaking of which, mind giving me a hand?” Ramona asked, gesturing to the door of the empty classroom. 

Ever the helper, Harry followed her inside. Once again, he was surprised by the Weasley Twins’ presence, who were grinning at Potter so intensely that it bordered on creepy. 

“ _ This _ is prefect stuff?” Harry asked.

Ramona crossed to the twins, “Well...I’m a prefect, and this is my stuff, so yeah: prefect stuff,”

“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” Said George. As if on cue, the brothers parted, revealing the map upon the table. 

Potter stared at the blank map, and then back up at the three older students, “What’s that supposed to be?”

George chuckled, “This, Harry, is the secret to our success,” 

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you- OW, Mona!  _ Anyway _ , we decided, your needs are greater than ours,” added Fred, rubbing his side where Ramona had elbowed him. 

“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” Asked Harry suspiciously. 

Ramona couldn’t help but laugh, “You sound just like I did when we acquired this beauty. So skeptical, so naive,” 

“We nicked this from Filch’s office during first-year, from a drawer marked  _ confiscated and highly dangerous _ ,” Fred reminisced. 

“Doubt Filch knew how it worked; it took us almost a year to figure it out. Good thing too, if Filch could use this, no student would ever get away with anything again,” Ramona commented.

Harry shook his head, “You’re winding me up,” 

“Oh, I assure you, we’re not,” she grinned, “George: if you will?”

He cleared his throat and touched his wand to the parchment.

“ _ I solemnly swear I am up to no good _ ,”

* * *

The walk back to Hogwarts was a quiet one: their stomachs full of delicious treats and their heads fuzzy from one butterbeer too many. The sun was setting, the sky full of oranges and reds.

Ramona snuggled underneath George’s arm, which was wrapped around her shoulders to prevent her from stumbling. With her love of all things butterscotch, Ramona tended to overindulge in the sugary beverage. She was nowhere near drunk, but her balance was the first thing to go when she got tipsy. Hence George’s firm grip on his suddenly clumsy girlfriend. 

“I told you that last butterbeer wasn’t a good idea,” commented George as he prevented Ramona from tripping on yet another tree root. 

“Oh, come on, I didn’t drink  _ that _ much…” Ramona laughed in reply, her words slightly slurred. 

“You drank five flagons.”

Ramona hesitated. “...really?”

George nodded, but couldn’t help but let a smile through. She looked adorable; her cheeks and nose a rosy pink from the cold and the alcohol. She wrapped her arms around his side and clung to him like a monkey to a tree, and George’s heart swelled even more. How did he get so lucky? 

“Well, good thing you’re here to protect me,” she cooed. 

He kissed the top of her head, “My pleasure,” 

The rest of the group was far ahead, unburdened by drunken clumsiness. George didn’t mind. He wanted to be a little selfish. He wanted the presence of tipsy, giggly Ramona all to himself. 

Ramona also didn’t care that the rest of the friend group had disappeared. Currently, she was humming a song, something upbeat. George didn’t recognize the tune, although he didn’t recognize much of the muggle music Ramona enjoyed. She started sharing her music; a pair of earbuds split between them as she studied in the library. He still had a lot to learn, but had already found a few songs he enjoyed. As long as Ramona was teaching him, he was an eager student. 

“I love seeing you so happy,” George commented as her humming morphed into soft singing. 

Her singing stopped, and she looked up at him, puzzled, “I’m happy all the time,” 

“Yes. Yes, you are,” he agreed. 

That reply seemed to satisfy her, but George didn’t really agree. Ramona was kind, generous, and to those she trusts, a loving person. But happiness? Genuine happiness? Not a luxury Ramona always had access to. There were many layers to Ramona Avery, some even he didn’t have access to. George loved her, he really did, but he would be the first to admit that she had trouble opening up, a quick temper, and abandonment issues like no other. But he wasn’t about to ruin her cheerful mood by bringing  _ that _ up.

“It felt good,” she said, “Giving Harry the map.”

“Hey Mo?” he asked, “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“Same as always. Turkey, pudding, Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album on vinyl,” answered Ramona. Her humming song of choice now switched to a holiday carol George did recognize.

“What if you spent Christmas with us?”

Ramona’s eyes widened with delight, “At the burrow?”

“I mean, only if you want to,” George rambled, “I owled mum, and she said it was alright, but I understand if you don’t want to since we haven’t been dating for that long and-”

“George!” Ramona yelped, cutting off his rambles. “I’d love to. I’ll owl Andromeda and Ted tomorrow. I don’t think they’ll be okay with me spending the entire holiday away from them-”

“That’s okay! We’ll figure it out!” It’s a good thing Fred was nowhere near them. Otherwise, he’d poke fun at George for being so giddy. 

Ramona stepped in front of him, ceasing their forward motion. Her hands were still tightly wrapped around his center, fingers interlocked at the small of his back. 

“You really want to spend Christmas with  _ me _ ?” she asked timidly. 

Her answer came in the form of a kiss. 


	14. still falling

**Year Five**

* * *

“It’s so lovely to have you here, dear,” gushed Molly.

“It’s so lovely to be here!” replied Ramona, “Thank you for having me,”

It was Christmas evening, and Ramona was thoroughly enjoying her time at the burrow. The home was cozy and warm, full of non-stop laughter and love. Every inch of the eclectic home was decorated with brightly colored garland, and the tree sported beautiful homemade ornaments. Ramona hadn’t stopped smiling since she arrived. 

Although she missed her family, she’s loved spending time with George. When she flooed to the burrow that morning, George leapt on her before she had a chance to step out of the fireplace. He then proudly introduced her to every member of his family, his grin wide as he showed off his beloved girlfriend. 

The Weasleys had been incredibly welcoming. Bill played Ramona in a few rounds of wizard chess, and Charlie had a blast showing her photos of all the baby dragons he took care of, and she and Ginny talked Quidditch for nearly an hour.

Percy had decided to stay at Hogwarts, claiming it was his duty as Head Boy. This had saddened Molly and Arthur, but, honestly, Ramona didn’t mind; Percy still had some sort of vendetta against her, and at least her Christmas wouldn’t be ruined by his prejudiced opinions of who he thought she was. 

Ron had also opted to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday. Not out of some duty, but because he wanted to spend it with Harry and Hermione. So, it was a smaller Christmas than the Weasleys were used to, but much bigger than Ramona had ever experienced before. 

Ramona doesn’t remember any Christmases before she was taken in by the Tonks’s. Probably for the best, as she imagined those pureblood Christmas celebrations were rather dull, stuffy affairs. Christmas with the Tonks’s was terrific, but small, intimate celebrations. Ted’s extended family lived far away, and Andromeda’s family….Regardless, their four-person Christmases are some of Ramona’s favorite childhood memories. 

She and Tonks would spend the morning outside, playing in the snow, or putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. In the evening, the family would join together for a wonderful meal: turkey with gravy, potatoes, stuffing, and for dessert, the most delicious mince pies and Christmas pudding. Then, they would open gifts as they sang along to their favorite Christmas records. The Tonks’s went to bed with their stomachs full, and their hearts even fuller. Christmas with the Weasleys was similar, the food nearly the same, but the atmosphere different. 

Wrapping paper and loose ribbon littered the dining table, the occupants enjoying their new gifts after an incredible meal. Although George assured Ramona many times that she did not need to bring any gifts, she still felt guilty coming empty-handed. So she brought an assortment of candies, from chocolate frogs to sugar quills. The Weasleys happily munched on sweet treats as they opened presents. 

Molly held out a wrapped parcel, “Happy Christmas, Ramona,” 

“Aww, Mrs. Weasley. You shouldn’t have!” she gasped. 

The matriarch shook her head, “Please dear, call me Molly,” 

“Well then, thank you, Molly,” Ramona blushed, tearing into the package.

Her heart swelled as she looked down at the present: a gorgeous dark purple hand-knit sweater. Running her hand against the fabric, she could feel each stitch, precisely constructed and unbelievably soft. She held the sweater up, and noticed the large, cream-colored “R” centered on the front—her very own Weasley sweater. 

“Now you’re an honorary Weasley,” cooed George, nudging her shoulder lovingly.

“I love it! Thank you so much, Molly,” smiled Ramona, slipping the cozy sweater onto her body. It fit perfectly. “How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

“Oh, it’s just one of the many things George has told us about you, dear,” Molly sang as she continued to clean up loose wrapping paper. 

“He never shuts up about you,” Ginny mumbled under her breath. Charlie elbowed her under the table. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, racing to the closet to fetch something, “Andromeda sent your Christmas presents here!”

Molly placed two gifts in front of Ramona, and it was very easy to tell who each one was from. The one from her parents was neatly wrapped, the folds precise, and the ribbon tied perfectly. The gift from Nymphadora was, best put, “wrapped with love.” It used about twice as much wrapping paper than it needed, seemingly an entire roll of tape, and atop the gift, in her sister’s scratchy print, was a message. 

_ Wotcher Mona! _

_ So you can stop borrowing my old ones.  _

_ From your weird sister.  _

_ P.S. say hi to Charlie from me. _

“Tonks says hello,” said Ramona to Charlie, and he smiled fondly. During their Hogwarts years, Charlie and Tonks had been close friends. 

Tonks’s gift was a brand new Weird Sisters tee shirt: white and pink lettering against a black backdrop.

After her adoption, one of the first things Ramona and Tonks first bonded over was music, specifically the rock and roll sounds of the Weird Sisters. Since then, they’d been to multiple concerts together, and the band held a very special place in her heart. 

The gift from her parents also had a note written on top.

_ For our little bird.  _

_ We are so proud of you.  _

_ Never stop flying.  _

_ Love, Mum and Dad _

Under the wrapping paper was a wooden box with multiple metal clasps. In her hands, she could feel the box twitch and shake, as if there was something alive inside. She opened the latches and lifted the lid, exposing a shiny golden snitch inside. 

Ramona’s eyes lit up, “My own snitch! I can finally stop using the banged-up practice snitch we have at home,” 

“Cool!” Fred squealed, reaching for the ball. 

Ramona and George both screamed “no,” but it was too late. Fred, not used to the snitch’s sneaky behavior, accidentally let it slip from his grip. The golden ball wasted no time zooming across the room, flitting from one corner to the next. The table’s occupants went into a frenzy, jumping up and running around trying to catch it.

George was chasing after it, running circles around the living room. Bill was trying to clap the snitch between his hands as if it was a mosquito. Charlie was once a seeker himself, but went with a very different strategy than the typical seeker: He was treating the snitch like he would one of his dragons, his arms wide, his legs bent at the knees, trying to corner the charmed ball. Somehow, Fred had found a butterfly net, and was standing on the table, swinging it wildly with reckless abandon. Ginny was standing in the corner, shouting commands at her troop of brothers. Molly and Arthur hadn’t moved from their seats, torn between wanting to help out and watching the chaos. 

Ramona stood in the center of it all, her body still but her eyes following the snitch. She looked for patterns in its movement, trying to predict where it would go next, just as she would if it was a Quidditch match. 

“It’s no use!” cried Bill, “It’s too fast!”

Fred grinned wide, “I know! Let’s use our brooms!” 

“NO!” the Weasley parents screamed at the same time. The last thing this situation needed was Fred Weasley flying around the house on his broom.

“I’ve got this,” Ramona yelled, startling the room. Every redhead turned to look at the girl who had been quiet all evening. 

Ramona closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She clenched her fists at her sides as she tried to visualize. She pictured her wings, sleek and dark. She imagined the feeling of wind flowing through feathers. 

“Merlin’s beard,” she heard Arthur gasp as the family watched Ramona shift from human to crow right in front of their eyes. 

She flew across the room, gaining speed as she narrowed in on the snitch. It’s much easier, she realized, to chase a snitch as a crow than it’s ever been as a human, diving and swerving with as little as a tilt of her wings. 

Ramona flew laps around the home, avoiding people and furniture, getting closer and closer to the snitch with each turn. She got so close she could feel the wind coming from the beating of its golden wings on the feathers around her beak. 

In all, it only took Ramona a minute to catch the snitch, the golden ball hanging out of her beak from its wing. She transformed back, the snitch now hanging from between her teeth. She plucked it from her mouth and slammed it back in its box, double-checking to make sure each latch was fully closed. 

Exhausted, Ramona slumped into a chair, trying to catch her breath. Not only was the flying tiring, but that was the fastest she’d ever transformed before, and the combination had taken everything out of her. 

“Crisis averted,” she proudly exclaimed, leaning back in the chair. 

That was when Ramona realized that every eye was still on her. The Weasley’s jaws were on the floor, all except for George, who was lovingly staring at her in a way that made him seem rather whipped. 

“Well, would you look at that Georgie,” praised Fred, clapping his twin on the back, “Your bird’s a bird!”

* * *

It was nearing midnight, and George was about ready to settle into bed when he heard a light knock on his bedroom door. Once his family learned Ramona was an animagus, they wanted to hear every detail of the process. They ended up chatting for hours before people finally started going to bed.

Fred was already fast asleep, and snoring like a magical beast, as George crossed their bedroom to the door. Opening it a crack, he was delighted to find a pajama-clad Ramona on the other side, and even happier to see she was wearing her new Weasley sweater. Though she was trying to be subtle, he could tell she was hiding something behind her back. 

“Hi,” she whispered, “Did I wake you?”

George quietly crept out of the bedroom and closed the door, “No. Is something wrong?”

“No! No! I just...well….” Ramona mumbled as her cheeks blushed red.

“What did you do?” George asked her mischievously. 

Ramona pulled a wrapped parcel from behind her back, “I know we agreed not to give each other gifts this year, but you were so sweet to invite me here, and I felt bad not giving you anything-”

“Hold on,” George interrupted, ducking back into his bedroom. 

From his school trunk, George retrieved a small wrapped box. He planned on giving it to her tomorrow, away from the prying eyes of his nosy family, but now an even better opportunity had presented itself. 

He returned to Ramona, holding up his gift, “I also got you something,” 

“Wow, we’re really good at this no gift thing, huh?” she chuckled. 

George wrapped his arm around her and led her downstairs. The fireplace was still roaring, so they sat down in front of it, wrapping themselves in quilts to keep out the winter cold. 

She passed her gift to George, wrapped in the same paper as her parents’ gift earlier in the evening. It felt heavy in his hands. Peeling off the wrapping paper revealed a title:  _ Jiggery Pokery and Hocus Pocus _ .

“It’s a book on mischievous spells, which in and of itself is not very exciting. But that’s not all, take a look inside,” she commanded, and George obeyed, cracking open the spine. 

It looked like a typical spellbook, full of spell summaries, incantation pronunciation guides, and wand movement diagrams. But in the margins were notes, Ramona’s notes. Every page was full of her thoughts, ideas, even helpful tips, all in her best handwriting. George couldn’t imagine how long it took her to do this. 

“I know you’re not big on the whole reading thing,” she joked, resting her head on his shoulder, “So I read it for you. I marked the spells I thought would be of most use to you for pranks, even came up with a few prank ideas of my own,” 

“Mo, this is...” George was at a loss for words, so he kissed her instead, “Thank you. I love it,” 

They spent a good while flipping through the book, and even tried out a few simpler spells. Ramona was so much more mischievous than she let on, and George loved seeing that side of her shine through. If she dedicated more time to causing trouble, she’d surely put the twins out of business. 

After almost knocking over an antique vase, the couple decided they’d done enough spells for the night. Now it was time for George’s gift to Ramona. 

George handed her the small box, and Ramona eyed it with her typical Ravenclaw curiosity. She held it up, examining its shape and weight. 

“You know, it’d be easier to open it instead of trying to guess what’s inside,” he teased. Ramona stuck her tongue out at him in response. He always did know exactly what she was thinking. 

Ramona unwrapped it slowly, revealing a soft velvet box. She opened the lip and gasped, looking up at George in surprise. 

Inside the velvet box was a heart-shaped locket, covered in ornate carvings. He’d picked it up in Hogsmeade on Halloween while Ramona stayed back at the castle. He’d wanted to give it to her that same day, but decided it would make an excellent Christmas gift instead. 

“George, it’s gorgeous,” she said, as her finger traced the jewelry. 

He’d done well, but there was one more surprise, “Look at the back,” 

She eyed him quizzically before pulling the necklace out of the box and flipping it over. On the back was an engraving that read:  _ Take these broken wings and learn to fly _ . 

Ramona gasped, “I love that song,” 

George nodded. She showed him the song months ago, during one of their evenings at the library, and it struck him just how much the song reminded him of Ramona. 

The engraving spell had been tricky to learn, but so worth it to see the look on her face as she gazed lovingly down at the jewelry. 

Taking the necklace from her hands, he motioned for her to turn around, which she did. 

“I wanted you to have a reminder every day, despite the bullshit life has thrown at you, that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to,” George told her as he clasped the chain around her neck. 

When she turned back around, he saw the tears in her eyes, and the smile on her lips. She dove into his arms, and George was so startled he fell backward. 

“I’m never taking this off,” Ramona declared as she lay on top of George. 

“Ever?” he questioned, still smiling. 

She wiped a tear from her cheek, “Ever.” 

“Happy Christmas, Mo,” 

“Happy Christmas, Georgie,” 


	15. stronger than this

**Year Five**

* * *

The day could not have been more perfect for a Quidditch match. It was warm, but not too warm so the players wouldn’t overheat. The sun was shining, but there were still enough clouds in the sky to keep the bright rays from their eyes. The air was practically still, with no wind to push the brooms off their paths. 

The stands were full of red and blue, with banners waving and students loudly cheering. In the center of the field stood the teams: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The players were doing their best to stare each other down, to psych out their opponent before the game had even begun. 

The team captains were greeting each other, but George was having difficulty paying attention, because Ramona was standing right across from him. She was nodding along to whatever Madam Hooch was saying, her hair, the typical braids now wrapped into buns, bobbing with the movement. Surrounded by the rest of the Ravenclaw team, which Ramona lovingly called her bodyguards, she looked incredibly intimating. George never had a problem with Ramona being the only girl on the team before, but now he felt a spark of jealousy seeing her standing with her teammates.

Currently, George was thanking Merlin for whoever invented the Quidditch jumper, because the way the navy and gray fabric hung on her figure was making him lightheaded. 

A few weeks ago, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, had pulled George aside and asked him if playing against his girlfriend was going to be too much of a distraction. 

“Of course not,” he’d said, “I’ve played against her before. It shouldn’t be any different now that we’re dating,”

Boy, was he wrong. 

George’s job was to protect his players, to get between them and the bludgers, and to send those pesky balls towards the opposition. But George’s instinct told him to watch Ramona with his life, to trail her around until her hands firmly clasped around the snitch. 

Ramona loved watching George play. He was just so confident out on the field, and it also helped that he looked awfully good in his Quidditch gear. And there was something incredibly attractive about the way he held a beater’s bat. But today, Ramona couldn’t afford to be distracted. After all, she now had to keep up with Potter and his  _ bloody _ Firebolt. 

It’s not fair. It took Ramona ages to save up enough galleons for her brand new Nimbus 2000. Her old broom, a Nimbus 1500, was reliable, but on its last legs. Her new broom was sleek, and so fast, she’d been practically unstoppable during practices. But then a brand new Firebolt just had to land in Harry  _ fucking _ Potter’s lap.

Still, Ramona had a few advantages. She relied on strategy, whereas Harry relied on his Gryffindor gut. She was older and had much more experience. Harry was young and, before coming to Hogwarts, had no Quidditch experience whatsoever. Ramona’s summers were spent training and playing scrimmages. She was more than sure that Potter’s muggle aunt and uncle didn’t even let him look at a broom during the holidays. 

Still, Ramona had her work cut out for her. The snitch was incredibly elusive today. Twice both seekers had managed to spot it, but as soon as the snitch appeared, it seemed to vanish into thin air. 

Today, her strategy was to make it as difficult as possible for Harry to fly in a straight line. He specialized in dives and acceleration, but Ramona was good at tactical flying. She flew circles around him, cutting him off and forcing him to change direction and speed, all while keeping an eye out for the snitch at the same time. It was exhausting. It was overwhelming. It was thrilling.

And then she saw it: the signature gold streak of her target. But luck was not on her side today, because Harry spotted the snitch at the same time. They both dove after it, their brooms flying as fast as possible. The seekers tried to bump each other multiple times, hoping to knock the other off their trajectory, but neither were successful.

George saw them out of the corner of his eye: a dizzying swirl of red and blue flying across the pitch. His brain couldn’t decide if he should cheer on Harry or Ramona.

“HARRY!” Oliver screamed, “THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TOO!”

George made a mental note to cuss Oliver out once the match was finished. Potter tried to do precisely that: he wound up and threw himself at the Ravenclaw seeker, but she was too fast. At the last second, she dodged his advances, and used the opportunity to push herself further ahead. Ramona held up her hand in an obscene gesture at the Gryffindor captain, and George could swear he spotted a smile on her face. He couldn’t help but smile too. 

But the smile quickly faded when he heard her scream. 

Far below the seekers were three dementors. Harry reacted quickly, releasing some silvery light from his wand. Ramona took advantage of Harry’s distraction, putting all of her might into catching up with the snitch. 

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t the only one distracted. Ravenclaw’s beaters, Duncan Inglebee and Jason Samuels, had abandoned their post. Like most of the other players, they were staring at the dementors, no longer caring about the rest of the match. 

But Ramona was hyperfocused on the snitch, climbing higher and higher. She didn’t look at her surroundings, she didn’t even know where Potter was, but she didn’t care. In her mind, there was no other option other than victory. 

Rogue bludgers are a common occurrence during Quidditch matches. A beater will hit a bludger far outside the pitch, and the bludger will come back, choosing a random player as its target. Often, the bludger will never make it to the targeted player, either another player will get in the way, or a beater will take care of it. But today, that was not the case. 

Most players had stopped moving, choosing to gawk at the drama instead, the beaters included. So no one noticed the rogue bludger headed for the Ravenclaw seeker, no one except George. 

He was on the other side of the pitch. George pushed his broom as fast as it would go, but it was no use. He would never get there in time, but he still tried. 

He passed Inglebee and Samuels, screaming at them as he flew past, “DO YOUR JOB, ARSEHOLES!”

Ramona’s hand was seconds away from grabbing the snitch when the bludger made contact with her side, sharp pain radiating from her hip and down her leg. The impact disrupted her balance, causing her to spin out, her body slamming into the side of the stands. She yelped as her head cracked against the wood, and yelped again when her body slammed into the ground. 

Pain throbbed throughout her entire body as she laid on the cold ground; the cheers around her indicated that golden boy Potter had once again caught the snitch. She’d beat herself up over her failure later. Right now, Ramona was more concerned about the beat-up she’d just received from the rogue bludger. The sound of footsteps surrounded her, and she opened her eyes and saw her teammates kneeling around.

“Lions win?” she mumbled.

Roger Davies sighed, “Yeah, they did.” 

“Fuck,” Ramona spat, as she propped herself up on shaky elbows. 

“Are you okay?” a concerned Roger asked, checking her over, “Anything broken?”

She groaned, “I don’t know,” Ramona tried to sit up farther, but a sharp pain shot down her leg and sent her collapsing back down, “On second thought,  _ probably _ ,” 

Her head was pounding, and her vision was growing blurrier by the second. Ramona swore she could hear the sound of George screaming over the crowd, but in her haze, she hadn’t noticed his presence until he was practically on top of her, his large hands cradling her pale face. 

“Mo, love, I’m so sorry. I tried to reach you, but I was so far away-” George pulled his hand away suddenly, revealing a thick coating of warm blood across his fingers, “y-you’re bleeding,” 

“I am?” Ramona marveled, touching her hand to the side of her head to confirm that, yes, she was bleeding. Quite heavily, from a large gash; The sticky blood thoroughly soaked her messy hair.

George ripped his cloak off. Rolling the red fabric into a ball, he pressed it up against the injury. Ramona whimpered and tried to move away, but he only pressed harder. 

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” George comforted her with a kiss to the uninjured side of her head, “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey. Roger, can you help me get her up?” 

The Ravenclaw Captain was more than willing to help, and wrapped his arm around Ramona’s right side. George took her left, his hand still pressing the cloak against her head wound. On the count of three, they hoisted her up. Ramona screamed as she stood on her injured led, her hip giving out almost immediately. She would have crumpled back to the ground if it wasn’t for the firm clutches of her friends. 

It was a long walk from the Quidditch pitch to the Hospital Wing. The more they walked, the weaker Ramona became. Her head rested against George’s shoulder, and every few minutes, he would plant a reassuring kiss against the crown of her head.

“We’re almost there, Mo. You’re doing so well.” 

It wasn’t until Ramona was safely in the hands of Madam Pomfrey that George allowed himself to panic. He stared down at his blood-soaked cloak, his vision spinning. He threw the cloak on the floor, willing the blood out of his sight. But dried blood still coated his hands. 

“Stay with her,” He commanded to Roger, “I’ll be right back,” 

George didn’t even wait for a response. He ran through the hallway and into the nearest men’s restroom. Under the running water, he scrubbed his hands raw, the watered-down blood flowing into the drain. His hands gripped the side of the sink, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady his breathing. 

_ She’s okay _ , George had to remind himself,  _ She’ll be okay _ .

* * *

It was nearing midnight when George was finally able to escape the chaos of the Gryffindor celebration. After every Quidditch win, the house threw an outrageous party in the common room: food, games, music, and most importantly, plenty of drinks. 

George hadn’t wanted to attend. He planned on spending the night in the Hospital Wing, watching over Ramona while she slept. That’s what he’d spend the afternoon doing, along with Roger, Lissa, Lee, and Fred. But when it came time for the party to start, the Ravenclaws practically kicked the Gryffindors out of the wing. 

“Go,” Ramona had insisted groggily, “There’s no reason why you guys should miss out on a perfectly good party just because I’m a little banged up,” 

So George unwillingly attended, planning on showing up for solidarity’s sake and then slipping away unnoticed. Unfortunately, Fred and Lee had imbibed a bit more than usual, and George had to keep them out of trouble. It took him almost an hour to get them both in bed before he felt okay with leaving his drunk friends unsupervised. 

He quietly entered the Hospital Wing, carefully closing the door behind him. Ramona laid on her back, her arms by her sides. Her head was heavily bandaged, and there was a pillow underneath her bad hip. Soundly asleep, a slight snore slipped between her lips. Lissa was sleeping curled up next to her, their hands connected in the middle of the hospital bed. Roger sat in a chair beside them, his feet propped up on the bed, passed out with his head thrown back. 

George smiled at the sight. It comforted him to know that Ramona had such good people supporting her. 

He pulled on a chair on the other side of her bed, lifting her hand and placing a soft kiss across her fingers. She whimpered, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his. 

“Hi stranger,” she whispered, giggling a bit. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized. 

She was in a daze, her head rolling around. “S’okay,” Ramona slurred, “How was the party?” 

“Uh...you know, same old,” he replied, his brows furrowed as he studied her behavior, “Are you feeling okay?”

She giggled again, “Fantastic. The pain potion Pomfrey gave me is  _ wonderful _ . I can barely even feel this anymore,” she said, pointing to her hip. 

“Broken?”

“Fractured.”

George whistled, “Yikes,”

“Yeah, I won’t be playing Quidditch anytime soon,” Ramona said sadly, “But it doesn’t matter. Ravenclaw’s done for the season anyway,”

“You guys were tough to beat,” George admitted.

“I fucked up,” 

George rubbed circles on her hand, “You  _ did not _ fuck up,” 

“Yes, I did,” Ramona said firmly, “I should’ve been paying better attention. I should’ve seen that bludger coming-”

“No,” George interrupted, “Keeping track of the bludgers is not a seeker’s job. Your beaters are the ones who should’ve been paying attention. That reminds me, I have some choice words for Inglebee and Samuels the next time I see them,” 

“Captain over here already gave them a stern talking to, and Lissa threatened to hex them into oblivion,” Ramona replied, gesturing to her sleeping friends, “Duncan and Jason came by while you were gone to apologize. And to bring me these,” 

Ramona pointed towards the bedside table, which was full of an assortment of goodies: chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, and a rather large bag of butterscotch candies. 

“Smart boys,” George laughed. 

“Indeed,” she agreed, 

“Did you hear?” He asked, “Those weren’t dementors at the match: it was Malfoy and his goon squad,”

“Bastards. Why would they do that?” she grumbled. 

“To scare Potter,” 

“Figures,” she sighed, “Did Fred and Lee enjoy the party?”

“Enjoy? Yes? Practically drown themselves in firewhisky? Also, yes.” 

Ramona laughed, quickly covering her mouth to avoid waking up the others, “How bad?”

“Fred forgot how to walk. I finally had to convince him to crawl up the stairs to his room. And Lee...did you know he could speak Spanish? Cause that’s all he was speaking.” 

She laughed again: George’s favorite sound in the whole world. 

The couple settled into the silence, George mirroring Roger by propping his feet up on the bed. He stared at her, and noticed the silver locket he gave her still dangling around her neck. It warmed his heart. 

“Hey Mo?” he whispered, hoping she was still awake. 

“What is it, Georgie?”

“I know your season’s over and everything, but if you ever felt like wearing your Quidditch jumper more often, I really wouldn’t mind,” he said cheekily. 

Ramona opened one eye and stared at him, “I take it you liked what you saw today?”

He hummed in agreement.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she cooed, “How ‘bout I wear yours instead?”

George blushed a deep red, “I think that could certainly be arranged,” 


	16. afterimage of death

**Year Five**

* * *

“Gather ‘round class!” Hagrid called, quieting his fifth-year students, “Now today, we are going to be learning about thestrals, but the school’s herd lives deep in the forest, so we’ll be doing a bit of walking. Follow me!”

Ramona groaned. She’d already walked all the way down to Hagrid’s hut, and her hip was killing her, and now she’d have to walk even farther, and through the forest on crutches nonetheless. 

“How are you doing, Mo?” George inquired, sneaking up behind her. 

“Yeah, just dandy,” She replied sarcastically. They were near the back of the group, Ramona trailing behind as she limped on her crutches. 

“How can I help?” George asked eagerly. 

“Can you carry my bag?” 

George smiled wide and removed the bag from her shoulder, placing it on his own. 

It had only been a few days since Ramona’s Quidditch accident. The potions Madam Pomfrey gave her had sped along her healing process, and the wound on her head had closed up nicely, her headaches disappearing along with it. However, bones took longer to heal. Her leg now allowed her to put weight on it, but it would still be a few weeks before she walked around without crutches. 

Usually, she would never allow others to fuss over her like this, but after only a day of hobbling around the castle, she finally let her friends help her out. 

Fred and Lee provided Ramona with endless amounts of comedic relief. Multiple pranks had been enacted in her honor, all against the Slytherin third-years responsible for the fake dementor stunt at the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match. 

Nothing cheers a person up quite like seeing Draco Malfoy with bright red hair. 

Roger and Lissa had hit the spellbooks, finding as many charms as possible to aid in Ramona’s recovery. A modified cushioning charm had been used on her shoe to help with hip pain. As well, her friends had started levitating Ramona up the stairs in the Ravenclaw tower, so she didn’t have to walk all the way up the long spiral staircase to her dormitory. 

Ramona suspected that George thoroughly enjoyed taking care of her. He got so excited every time she needed his help. George spent every second of the day by her side, there to help at the slightest wince of pain. He was treating her as if she would break any second, and as much as that annoyed Ramona, she knew that it was coming from a place of love. 

“What about….a piggyback ride?” he cooed.

Ramona shoved him playfully, “I can still walk idiot, just....slowly,”

The class stopped in an empty clearing, the students looking around with confused looks on their faces. 

“Ta-da!” Hagrid explained, “Thestrals. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Merlin,” George whispered, “Old Hagrid’s finally lost his mind! There’s nothing here!”

But George looked at the rest of the class, and out of the sea of confused students, noticed a few stepping forward, their hands extended to touch nothing but air.

And Ramona was among them. 

She’d dropped her crutches, and slowly limped her way to the center of the clearing. Her hand was reaching up and brushing through nothing, as if she was miming. 

George approached her carefully, “Mo, what are you doing?”

Hagrid continued lecturing, “Now thestrals are very rare creatures, but we’re very fortunate that Hogwarts has such a large herd. You’ll see, they’re gentle as can be, but you still want to be care-”

“Professor?” a Hufflepuff interrupted, “Why can’t all of us see the thestrals?”

“Ahh, that’s what makes these beasts so fascinating: only those who have witnessed death can see a thestral,” the half-giant replied. 

A sudden realization hit George, and his heart sunk as he looked at his girlfriend. She was still combing her fingers through a thestral’s invisible mane, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

“Mo?” he called, his voice breaking. 

“The textbooks always describe them as terrifying, but I don’t think that’s the case at all,” she murmured, oblivious to George’s approach, “I’ve always thought they were stunning,” 

“Mo-”

“Are you hungry?” she asked the creature, offering a treat. George watched as the treat floated from her hand and disappeared into thin air.

“Mo, who did you see-” 

“George. Please,” she commanded, her voice firm and coarse, “I get your curiosity, I do, but there are some things I’m not ready to talk about,” She turned towards him, a single tear running down her cheek, “Please,” 

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, a comforting squeeze telling her he understood. 

* * *

**December, 1981**

The cottage’s wooden walls did nothing to keep out the winter winds. There was a fireplace, but the family of three relied on warming charms to keep them comfortable instead. The light from a fire would be too risky, and a smoking chimney would be a dead giveaway that the cottage was occupied. The only light in the empty room was a jar of bluebell flames, the blue illumination dancing across the sleeping face of four-year-old Alene Ramona Avery. 

Her parents, Evangeline and Alphonse Avery, spoke in frantic hushed voices, careful not to disturb their sleeping daughter. They had only arrived at the cabin an hour prior, but they would be leaving again in a few hours. Staying in one place for long was not a luxury they could afford. 

The Avery’s had been on the run for days. Every auror in the United Kingdom was looking for them, and escaping the country was the only way to keep their family together. It was the only way to make sure their daughter stayed safe. 

Four days ago, Evangeline’s father, Clifford Avery, had been one of the highest officials in the Ministry of Magic, second only to the Minister themself, and the head of England's richest and most powerful wizarding family. Now, he and his wife, Yana Avery, were shells of their former selves, their souls stolen by a dementor’s kiss. 

Four days ago, the citizens of the wizarding world saw the Averys as allies, powerful and trusted politicians against the dark lord’s tirade. Now, the public knew the Averys for who they really were: Voldemort’s most loyal followers. Death eaters. Murderers. 

It all started on Halloween: the night the Potters died. That night was supposed to be the beginning of the end, the final obstacle in their path to victory. But instead, their Dark Lord fell, and the death eaters were forced into hiding. 

Everything seemed fine for a while. After all, only a trusted few knew the Dark Lord’s real identity, and even fewer knew that Clifford Avery was Tom Riddle’s right-hand man. 

But then, aurors started arresting death eaters. Only the ones low down on the pyramid, the ones stupid and sloppy enough to get caught. And when it came time for their trials, those death eaters were the ones afraid enough to start talking. 

Evangeline didn’t understand how that death eater grunt knew of her father’s involvement, but it didn’t matter: the truth was out. Within an hour after the trial, Clifford and Yana were in custody, and Evangeline and her family went on the run. 

There was nothing she could do to save her parents from their fate: the Wizengamot would have no mercy in their sentence. But there was no time to mourn the loss of her parents: as the new head of the Avery family, it was her responsibility to ensure its survival.

Evangeline had blood on her hands. Blood she gladly spilled for her Dark Lord, but blood nonetheless. Evangeline's crimes were less than that of her parents, and she would surely not receive the Dementors kiss as they had. But if caught, she would still spend the rest of her life in a dirty cell in Azkaban, the same for her loyal husband as well. They knew escaping the country would be nearly impossible, but it was a chance worth taking.

So the family traveled from safe house to safe house across the country. The Avery family kept a portkey in the North, to be used only in the direst of emergencies. Now, they were only a day’s journey away from the portkey’s secret location. Only a day’s journey away from safety.

But pops of apparition surrounded the cottage, ruining any hopes of a peaceful night. 

Evangeline threw a cloak over the jar of bluebell flames, blocking out the light, while Alphonse protectively wrapped his arms around his sleeping daughter. 

“Is that them?” Alphonse whispered. Despite his many years of residence in England, his French accent still peaked through his words. Evangeline always loved his accent.

His wife crept towards the windows, peeking out through the curtains. She was confronted by the sight of at least a dozen individuals, all sporting identical gray and crimson robes. Aurors.

Evangeline turned back to her husband and nodded, her emerald eyes displaying the briefest flash of worry and panic before returning to their typical fierceness. 

“We need to apparate out of here to the portkey. Now,” she commanded. She grabbed her husband’s arm and her daughter’s small hand.

“No! Evie, are you crazy?” Alphonse pleaded, “There’s no doubt they’re tracking our magical signatures by now. If we apparate, they’ll just track us down again,” 

“We don’t have a choice, Al,” Despite the imminent threat of capture, her voice was cool and calm.

Evangeline Avery’s ability to remain calm in situations of danger was what made her such a fearsome death eater. Nothing phased her. Even when staring into the eyes of her victims, she never hesitated to follow through with the kill. Her face and mannerisms were impossible to read, impossible to predict her next move. When it came to protecting her family, she was no different. 

She held tightly onto her family and pictured the portkey’s location clearly in her mind. But the typical pull of apparition never came. 

“Anti-apparition wards,” realized Alphonse. 

“We’re trapped,” she admitted, staring down at her daughter. 

“No, no, no. There are still options. We can still floo!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards the empty fireplace. 

Evangeline cradled her sleeping child in her arms, kissing her on the forehead. “Do you think my family was stupid enough to hook up our  _ safehouses _ to the floo network?”

He gripped his wand tightly in his right hand, “Then we fight!”

She laid her child back down and stood up, facing her husband eye to eye. 

“Don’t you get it? It’s over, Alphonse. There’s no way out of this where we win. Our only option left is to protect Alene. The future of the House of Avery lies with  _ her _ . I will not risk her getting caught in the crossfire. I will not risk the only hope at our bloodline’s survival,”

“Evangeline Avery. Alphonse Avery. We know you’re in there,” a voice called from outside. 

Alphonse wrapped his arms around his wife, kissing her like it was the last time. Because it was. 

“I love you,” 

“I love you too. Put Alene in that closet. She’ll be safer in there.”

Alphonse scooped his sleeping daughter into his arms, but she stirred in his embrace. 

“Papa? What’s happening?”

He set her down inside the closet, kissing her on the forehead, “I love you so much, ma fille. Never forget that,”

Tears started falling from the four-year-old’s eyes, “Mummy, what’s happening?”

Evangeline bent down to her daughter’s level, wiping away the tears from her flustered cheeks, “Your father and I need to go away for a while. I need you to stay in here, shut your eyes and keep quiet. You understand?”

The girl nodded. Even at a young age, Ramona knew better than to disobey Evangeline Avery’s orders.

“I love you, darling. I will come back for you. I promise.”

And with that, the closet door closed, leaving little Ramona in the darkness. 

But despite her mother’s strict instruction, but try as she might, curiosity would not allow her eyes to stay closed. Ramona watched through the closet’s shuttered door as the aurors flooded into the cottage, their wands raised. They were shouting things, threatening her parents to back into the room’s corners. She watched them grab her parents, holding their left arms out as they exposed their matching tattoos. She watched the aurors forcefully grab and pull her parents from their spot and toward the door. But Ramona did not make a sound. 

She watched her father break free from the aurors grasp, grabbing his wand in one final act of defiance. But before he had a chance to utter a single spell, a green light shot from an auror’s wand and hit him square in the chest. Her mother screamed as his body hit the floor, his eyes lifeless and glassy, and she continued to scream as two aurors dragged her out of the cottage. 

The aurors watched as a little girl burst from the closet, tears streaming down her small face. They stood in shock as she ran to her father's body and clutched him tightly. 

“Papa!” she cried, shaking him, “Papa, wake up!” 

Eventually, the aurors dragged Ramona out of the cottage, screaming and kicking and crying. But for a few moments, they just watched. 

Watched as the dark-haired child sobbed. Watched as she tried to shake life into her father’s corpse. Watched as, for the first time in the young girl’s life, Ramona learned what death was. 


End file.
